72 Mummys Revenge
by ARtheBard
Summary: The team (minus a ready to pop JJ) travels to Charlotte, NC to figure out who murdered women, mummified them, and then placed them in storage like some sort of sick temple of death. As the team closes in they find out too late for one of them that they are dealing with more than just 1 crazed unsub. Can the others crack the case in time or will they return to Quantico a quartet?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Howdy! It's been a while, I know. Two words: Life. Ugh.**

 **Thank you for your patience. But...aren't you glad I don't post until the story is done? :o)**

 **Hope you enjoy this next installment. It picks up with the team heading off on a case while JJ is confined to bed rest and still recovering from the nutcase who wanted to kill her and Gideon. Enjoy!**

* * *

Emily groans as the alarm clock goes off at 4:30 a.m. A car was picking her up at 6 to get her to the airstrip at Quantico. She had made sure there would be plenty of time in case of bad roads. Emily rolls to her side and kisses JJ's temple. She grins when her wife just grunts.

"So cute," she whispers.

She slips down in the bed a little and lifts JJ's sleep shirt. "I love you two. Be good and stay inside Mommy until I get home, okay? And try to make sure she gets plenty of sleep, okay? Good babies," she says and gives them a kiss.

She eases out from under the covers and tucks JJ back in. After a shower she steps into her closet to get dressed and double check her go bag isn't missing anything. Walking out into the bedroom she sees JJ is out of bed. Hopefully it's just a bathroom break and the blonde can go back to bed.

As Emily retrieves her guns from the office safe, she hears her wife climb into bed. As she walks out she smiles at the sleepy beauty.

"Hey, you going back to sleep?"

JJ nods. "Hopefully."

"Good." Emily walks around and sits on the edge of the bed. "If anything changes...call me."

"I will. Promise. I'll keep you informed of what goes on and if Maddie and Luc look like they are making an appearance I'll call Garcia first to get you on a plane."

Emily smiles. "Good plan." She leans over and gives her wife a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Emily runs her hand over her babies. "Take care of all three of you."

JJ smiles. "I will. Promise."

They share another kiss. Then, before it gets too hard to go, Emily grabs her bag and briefcase and makes her way to the door. She pauses to look once more at her wife. JJ gives her a small wave and a smile. Emily blows her a kiss then quickly walks out. She sets her bags down and steps into Henry's room. She runs a hand over Alaska's head and straightens out the covers on her son.

"I love you, Champ. See you soon," she whispers and gives him a kiss. She smiles as he raises his arms to her. She gladly gives him a hug then helps him get settled again. "Love you so much, son," she reiterates then heads out the door.

She walks into Rocky's room and chuckles. As usual, the little girls bed covers are in disarray and she is flopped across the bed. Emily gets her straightened out and tucked back in, getting grunted at the entire time. She kisses her daughter's cheek.

"You are so cute, Rock." Emily strokes a hand over dark curls. "I love you so much. Be a good girl while I am gone." She kisses her once more then gets up and goes out.

Grabbing her bags, Emily goes down to the kitchen to get a bite to eat and a cup of coffee. Sooner than she would like, and before anyone else is up, Mama Prentiss is in a car on her way to Quantico. Time to turn on Agent Prentiss and make the world a better place for her children.

* * *

Emily's car pulls up at the airfield at 6:39. She can't help but laugh to see that Hotch had beaten her there and is sitting in his car doing paperwork.

"Should I wait for others, Agent Prentiss?" her driver asks.

"No, thank you. That's my boss. Even if the take-off is delayed I can get a ride back to the office with him. Thanks, though."

The man nods and hops out to help Emily with her bags. She shakes his hand then heads over to Hotch's car. She sees her boss is already making room for her in the front seat. She tosses her bags in his backseat and climbs in the passenger side.

"Morning."

"Good morning. Guess you haven't replaced the Lexus yet?"

"Nope. And I didn't want to take the van or Francesca's car because of the car seats. Sandy offered me her car but I figured this was easier. When we get back I can hitch a ride with someone I'm sure."

"I think that's a given. So you okay with leaving JJ?"

Emily sighs. "Honestly? Depends on the minute. Right now I am okay because she is asleep in bed and had no issues yesterday. Now, if I hear she has any b.p. spikes I may lose my shit."

Hotch grins. "I appreciate the honest answer." He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "When that bastard took her I...I couldn't...did you realize he might have...shit, never mind."

Emily glances over at him. "Did I know he may have killed her immediately? Yes, I did. Still gives me a knot in my stomach to think about. My only hope was, and how sick is this, was that Jen was his main stressor and torturing her meant more to him than killing her outright."

Hotch nods. "I had the same thought. And yes, it's pretty damn sick but at the same time knowing these fucks the way we do it gave me hope that she would be mostly okay until 9. I had faith in the profile that he wouldn't kill her sooner than that."

"That's what I clung to," Emily agrees. "Still pretty damn fucked."

"Yep," he agrees chuckling.

They both jump as someone taps on Hotch's window. He rolls it down since it had steamed up while they were talking. They see the amused faces of Reid and Morgan.

"Steaming up the windows? You two kids need to tell us something?" Morgan teases.

"You want to keep your job?" Hotch taunts back.

Reid glances at Morgan. "Answering a question with a question. Very informative." Morgan nods in agreement.

Emily rolls her eyes. "You two are such 12 year olds."

Morgan chuckles. "Couldn't resist. The plane is ready."

Hotch and Emily get out and grab their things. As they start towards the plane, Morgan falls into step beside Emily.

"Can I guess Hotch was testing your frame of mind?"

Emily nods. "Yes, he was." She looks at her best friend. "I'm okay. For now. I promise to let you know if that changes."

He nods. "You need anything, any time of night, you know where I'll be."

Emily smiles and squeezes his arm. "I know. Thank you."

Five minutes after they board, Rossi hops up the stairs and starts to get settled. Reid looks at him and grins. He nudges Emily, who sits beside him. She looks at the doctor who nods towards Rossi and points to his own chin. Emily looks up and starts to giggle. Morgan looks over and Emily gives him the same sigh. The African-American turns in his seat and sees. He begins to chuckle. Hotch had also seen what the rest of the team had seen. Rossi turns towards them and pauses. He frowns as he sees they are all grinning at him.

"What?"

"So, uh, have a good morning, Dave?" Hotch asks.

Rossi's eyes narrow. "What's it to you?"

"Guess you hitched a ride with Straus?" Morgan puts in.

"Yes. And?"

"Her colour pallet is good for your skin tone," Emily explains.

Rossi's eyes widen. He hurries past them as they all start laughing. In the bathroom he sees the smear of lipstick across his bottom lip and a little on his cheek. He lets loose an impressive string of Italian curses as he washes off his face. When he steps back out he glares at his teammates.

"Sometimes I really, really hate all of you."

He goes to his seat and pulls out his tablet so he can start to review the case. Hotch looks at everyone.

"It's a quick flight. Read over everything the police sent us. I have Garcia running full backgrounds on the victims that have been identified so far and the supposed owner of the storage locker. I have a bad feeling that will be a dead end...no pun intended."

The others nod and start to read over the case. A storage locker in Charlotte had gone into arrears and been auctioned off by the owner of the facility. The (lucky?) bidders had seen all the storage bins and been sure there would be plenty of items for them to sell off.

Then they opened the first bin...and found a mummified body.

They immediately called police. In all there were 33 bodies in bins of various sizes. Clothing on the bodies had stretched fashion trends over the last 20 years. This had been the storage facility of a scarily prolific serial killer. Even worse, the locker had only been rented 3 years before so he had carted the bodies there from somewhere else.

"Currently, finger prints and dental records are being uploaded as quickly as possible. Only one full autopsy has been completed," Hotch explains. "I just got that report this morning. This was a true mummification process."

Reid looks up sharply. "Do you mean the well-known Egyptian process?"

Hotch nods in confirmation. "Yes."

"Oh, God..." Emily mutters.

Reid looks to Morgan and Rossi. "The process begins with the body being bathed in wine and rinsed with water. Then there is the removal of all internal organs except the heart. The brain is actually extracted through the nose."

Morgan winces. "Oh that's sick."

Reid nods and continues. "The organs are then dried out and preserved. The body is covered and stuffed with something called natron which dries it out. The rags and any fluids will be saved for burial with the body. The body dries for 40 days and then is washed again then covered with oils to keep the skin elastic. Then depending on the era, the organs are then put back in or put into canopic jars depicting the gods and the body is stuffed to make it appear as it had in life. The body is oiled again then wrapped in linen."

"The unsub didn't bother with the wrapping and used regular salt in place of the natron," Hotch interrupts. "The thought is he is probably using the ancient burial methods as the organs he removed are missing."

"Trophies," Rossi suggests.

"Most likely," Hotch agrees. "But other than that, what Reid said is pretty accurate."

"So is this guy dead or what?" Emily asks.

"No idea yet. There are still some bins at the facility that did not contain bodies. Morgan, Prentiss, get there and go through them. Something in them could give us info on the unsub and maybe the victims." The two agents nod. "Rossi, Reid, get to the M.E. and get a look at the bodies and the bins. See if anything jumps out at you."

"If it's a mummy getting revenge I'll kill you, Aaron," Rossi teases. The others grin.

"I'll be at the police station seeing what else they have and preparing a press release. As you can guess, this story blew up in the news because so many people were around to see what was going on. A forensic artist is going to be working on composites of any bodies that do not pop in the system via prints or dental records. It goes without saying, we will be under intense scrutiny during this case. As more info goes public, we will probably be inundated by calls from families looking for missing loved ones."

"This is going to suck," Emily mutters.

"I concur," Reid states.

The team falls silent as they continue to read over the information they have received. Emily can't help but think she could end up in Charlotte for far longer than she wanted.

" _Please, God, don't let anything happen to the twins or Jen. Please,"_ she prays.


	2. Chapter 2

Emily and Morgan hold up their credentials. "Agents Morgan and Prentiss," she says to the patrolman guarding the gates of the facility.

He nods. "Glad y'all are here. This is...is...like TV creepy, you know?"

Morgan grins. "We hear that a lot when we are called in."

"Well, good luck finding this freak." He points. "Drive to the end of this row, take a right and it's up the third row. M.E. still has people there so you'll probably have to park along the back fence at the end of the row."

"Good to know. Thanks, man," Morgan says and drives through the gate.

Morgan parks at the end of the row and the two agents start up to the locker in question. "You know, we need to find out who owns the lockers around this one. Could be the same guy or at the least they may have seen something."

Emily nods. "Agreed. Most of these facilities have a security code to gain access. Garcia needs to find when this one was used. If he had another locker here, this one may show as having never been used."

Morgan nods. "True." He holds up his badge to the next officer. "Agents Morgan and Prentiss."

The officer nods. "Livermore radioed me. They are waiting for you inside."

The two agents walk on and stop at the door to the locker. A man steps forward. "Hi. Duncan MacLeod, assistant medical examiner."

Emily can't help but chuckle. "Seriously?"

He also chuckles. "Seriously."

Morgan is confused. "What am I missing?"

Emily looks at her partner. "Duncan MacLeod is the Highlander: Immortal swordsman fighting for good through the ages."

Morgan grins. "Geek," he teases her. She just shrugs. "I'm Derek Morgan, this is Emily Prentiss. We know a lot of bodies are gone but do you mind if we get a look at who's left? And then the other bins that had no bodies."

MacLeod shakes his head. "Not at all." He looks at the man and woman helping him. "Guys, let's take a bit of break."

The woman sets her clipboard down. "Won't argue that."

Those three head out of the small crypt as Morgan and Emily step in. They pause for a second and stare at the 20x20 room. Emily pulls up a photo on her tablet showing the way it looked before bodies had started being removed. The photo shows the open bin that had spurred the investigation as well as the stacks of other bins.

"He had a lot of open space. Think he came back here and visited them? Maybe looked them over?" Emily suggests.

Morgan shrugs. "Maybe. Or maybe he just planned to add more to the collection."

"Ugh."

The two walk over to the body that one of the assistants had been working on. Emily squats down and studies the clothing and positioning.

"This body is in the fetal position. Is it just because of the bin or is the bin size so it stays in the fetal position?"

"Good question. My guess is it's the bin that dictated the positioning. These are the most common sizes and would have been easy for him to find no matter when he needed them."

Emily nods. "Good point. He clothes them after the embalming process. The clothes take the place of the linen wraps we see on true Egyptian mummies. He's smart enough to know the process and patient enough to take the full 40 days to perfect the mummification. He has to have his own place far from neighbors otherwise I can't imagine they wouldn't have noticed the smell."

"A lot of open land in North Carolina. That won't help us much unless we know where exactly to look."

Emily nods in concession as she stands. She looks at the bins that had yet to be cataloged and removed. She shakes her head. "Sick motherfucker."

"Yep."

The two agents let the doctors get back to work on the bodies as they move to the bins that had been separated out. They each take one and open it up. Emily's eyes widen as she sees what is in hers. She carefully pulls out one plastic encased comic.

"Whoa...vintage comics!" Morgan glances over as Emily slides out a couple more for comparison. "Damn, Morgan, these are coveted ones! If these are all first editions, and the way he has them preserved I'd bet they are, they could be worth hundreds of dollars each!"

Morgan grins. "Remember when I called you 'geek' earlier? Yeah...same again."

Emily rolls her eyes. "But you don't understand, Morgan. This guy is a collector! He kept the bodies as pristine as he could just like his comics. He's either dead, in jail, or in some way incapacitated. This is not someone who would willingly give up his stash."

"Okay, so we need to start looking at men jailed in and around the Charlotte area in the last year as well as anyone who died."

"Someone that had his accounts frozen or wiped out somehow," Emily adds. "He'd have been paying automatically for this facility to ensure something like this didn't happen."

Morgan shakes his head. "Actually, the initial report said it was paid monthly by a money order sent from various outlets."

"Damn. That's really strange."

"Not if he was hiding this was his locker. I still think we'll find out he owns another around here. Maybe one in arrears or close to arrears." He pulls out his phone. "I'll call Garcia and get her checking on other owners here and on the arrest and death records. Maybe there will be a cross over with the owners."

"Perhaps. She's going to hate that broad a run."

He grins and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "I'll make it up to her."

Emily just laughs and rolls her eyes. She closes up the comic stash and moves to another bin. It, too, held comics that would fetch a tidy sum on the collector's market. The third bin she opens finally gives her a new insight into the unsub they are looking for. Morgan hangs up his phone and starts to grab another bin.

"Morgan?" He looks over as Emily holds up another magazine, this one not in plastic. "Rape porn."

Morgan sighs. So far the condition of the bodies had made it impossible to tell if sexual assault had been part of the m.o. These magazines tell them it most likely was a key step in the unsub's depravity.

"Damn."

"Yeah," Emily mumbles as she starts to go through the bin for anything else that can help them come up with a definitive profile.

* * *

Rossi and Reid had showed their credentials at the coroner's office and been directed back to the largest lab in the building. Inside they find three mummies on tables with various people working to undress them without ruining potential evidence. Every step is documented for the expected eventual trial of the unsub. One middle-aged man steps away from watching and extends his hand.

"You're the FBI agents?" the bespectacled man confirms.

"Yes, sir," Reid answers. "I'm Dr. Spencer Reid, this is SSA David Rossi. We have other teammates at the storage facility and at the police station, as well as an analyst back at Quantico."

The doctor nods. "Are you a medical doctor?"

"No, sir. Both doctorates are academic."

"I see. Well, I won't hold it against you," he says with a wink.

Reid grins, instantly liking the man. "I appreciate it."

"I'm Dr. Nigel Jethlow. I have completed 2 autopsies so far. These three young ladies will be next. Would you like to see the completed ones?"

"Well, since we're here, how about we take a look at these first," Rossi suggests. "Every bit about the disposal will be key to developing a profile."

Jethlow nods. "Sounds good. Let's start with Jane Doe 3." They walk to the closest table. He gestures to the removed clothes. "Granted we have only seen 5 so far but they are all wearing either pants or a skirt and a blouse. No undergarments. No jewelry. Our assumption is the clothing is probably what they were abducted in so the crime scene techs will be carefully taking pictures of it to compare with missing persons' reports."

"Good," Rossi agrees. "What is the wound in the side? Is that a killing strike?"

"Uh, no, Rossi. That's the way the ancient Egyptians removed the internal organs," Reid explains.

"Very good, Dr. Reid," Jethlow praises. "If I may throw my 2 cents worth in, I'd say who did this has extensive, possibly hands on, experience with Egyptian mummies. One of my assistants is currently comparing all our findings to the ancient burial techniques for the police to use. The only differences I have seen is no palm oil, he used olive oil. And instead of natron he used regular salt. Also, he did not stuff the bodies to preserve their shape."

"Strange. We're assuming he kept these bodies to visit. You would think he'd want them perfect," Reid notes as Rossi nods.

"So, just to confirm, he would have to do all the...mummification while they were naked. He then redressed them and placed them in the bin?" Rossi asks.

The doctor nods. "Definitely. The final step for the ancients was being wrapped. This was his way of completing the ritual."

Reid and Rossi slowly walk around, studying each body on the tables. When they are sure they have seen all they need to, they walk over to Jethlow.

"So, the first two?" Rossi asks.

Jethlow nods and walks out. "This way."

As they are walking, Reid's phone rings. "Hey, Garcia."

"Good news. I mean, I guess it's good. It's better than nothing really. Sorta. I mean..." she takes a deep breath. "We got hits back on 3 sets of fingerprints. Jane Does 1, 2 and 4. All have records for prostitution."

"Not surprising," Reid notes.

"They were reported missing 8, 4 and 12 years ago respectively. According to reports I have seen on 1 and 2, the clothes they were last seen in were the clothes they were buried in."

Reid nods. "We thought that was the case. Garcia, we think this unsub may have a background in Egyptology. Any chance you can check local museums or the universities or colleges in the area for someone with that background?"

"Will do, Boy Wonder. Will hit you back as I get more."

"Thanks, Garcia." He hangs up his phone and waits for the text he knows is coming. He catches up to the other two in the body storage room. "We have three names now."

Jethlow frowns. "The police didn't call me!"

"Our analyst tracked them down." He looks into the drawer at the body. "Jane Doe 2 is actually Natalia Gregorov. She was reported missing 4 years ago and has a record for prostitution."

"A high risk victim. Not surprising," Rossi notes. He looks at the m.e. "Is there any way to tell if the women were sexually assaulted or if any of these...rituals for lack of a better word were done ante mortem?"

"I can't tell if they were raped. I'm sorry. For better or worse, all the wounds associated with the mummification were postmortem. The cause of death for these two, as best I can tell with no organs to test for poison or starvation, looks to be manual strangulation. If they were poisoned, I have hair and nail clippings out for testing but they won't be back for a few days. I can say there were no stab or bullet wounds that I could find."

Reid is closely studying the corpse's right arm. Though nearly black due to the embalming process and natural decay, he can see something on the skin.

"Dr. Jethlow, is this a tattoo?"

"Yes," he nods. "I've taken photos but it's too dark to make out."

"Can you have it sent to our analyst? As well as any others you find? Maybe our techs can lighten it up enough to make something out."

Jethlow nods. "Will do. Anything that can help give these women justice I'll do, Dr. Reid."

"Thank you."

Rossi and Reid exchange a look. In it they both agree they have seen all they can. Rossi offers his hand to the m.e.

"Thank you for your time. If anything pops out at you, give us a call."

"I will. Thank you for coming to help us. I'd say it goes without saying we've never seen anything like this before."

Rossi sighs. "You don't know how much I wish I could say the same. See you, Doctor."

The two agents make their way out to their SUV. They both sit there a moment in silence, contemplating what they have seen and how much more they need to find the man responsible for this depravity. Finally Rossi starts to engine.

"Let's go talk to Hotch. If families are local, maybe we can get some answers about the final days of these women."

"Yeah. We can only hope there was something or someone in their life that can point us towards a viable suspect."

Rossi nods and points the SUV in the direction of the police station.

* * *

Hotch is getting the rundown from the media spokesman about the rumours swirling about the discovery. Some are expected: Satan worshipper, doomsday cult, illegal mummy trafficking, etc. Others are more outlandish: long forgotten university or museum storage, grave robbers, someone's legally purchased mummies. Hotch shakes his head.

"You'd think one of these would surprise me," he jokes.

The spokesman grins. "Does it help you to know they all shocked the hell out of me?"

Hotch grins. "A little. If you want, I'll take point from now on for these killings. Most likely the reporters will throw out ridiculous statements trying to get you to say something sensational that can help them sell ads."

The man sighs in relief. "You don't know how much I'd appreciate that. Get me your contact info and I'll put it out on the wire ASAP."

Hotch hands him his card. "Tell them I will hold a briefing at 4:30 so they can get it on the 5 o'clock news. Until then: no comment."

The man nods. "Got it. Thanks, Agent Hotchner."

Hotch nods and now goes to meet with the 2 detectives who had been gifted with this hellacious case. As he walks into the conference room he'd been told he'd find them he sees blank murder boards and several files stacked on the table. Two men are going through them.

"Detectives Ambrose and Mares?" He confirms.

Both men stand. The closest extends his hand. "Yep. I'm Isaac Ambrose. He's Lorne Mares."

"Aaron Hotchner. My team is here and already out in the field looking at the locker and talking to the m.e. I've already spoken to your department spokeswoman and will be taking point with the press."

Mares chuckles. "Did he offer you his firstborn as thanks?"

Hotch grins. "No but he was thankful. I assume you were waiting on the boards until you had T.O.D.s confirmed?"

Ambrose nods. "Didn't make sense to put them up until we knew the order they were killed. We wanted to see the bastard's timeline."

Hotch nods. "Makes sense. Let's see what you have."

They had been working almost 45 minutes when he gets the text from Garcia with the first three identities and their police records.

"So...are all these women prostitutes?" Mares asks.

Hotch shrugs. "No clue yet. Some may have been victims of opportunity. Let's not assume anything until we know them all."

Mares nods. "Right. Of course. Guess it would just be easier to narrow down the missing person's reports."

"True," Hotch agrees as they get back to work on the missing person's files.

* * *

About an hour later, Reid and Rossi arrive at the police station. They see the board now has 5 women on the boards, thanks to Garcia. So far all 5 are prostitutes.

"Interesting," Reid mumbles.

Rossi glances at him. "What is, Reid?"

"So far Garcia has been able to find 1, 2, 4, 8, and 11. Either some fingertips are so degraded a match isn't easy to find or these are no low risk individuals in the mix." Reid turns and looks at the others. "And if you look at the prostitutes, most have Russian surnames."

Hotch stiffens. "They could have been brought to the U.S. by traffickers."

Reid nods. "Possible. If so, we need to find other prostitutes with Russian surnames and see if they know the victims."

Mares sighs. "So we'll be interviewing families and hookers. Out of curiosity, will the pros be any help?"

Rossi nods. "Yes. These women tend to look out for each other. They are confidantes because who else would understand their fears, their problems, their frustrations." He nods to the board. "If any of these women had concerns about a certain John, the other prostitutes would know."

Mares thinks about that a moment and nods. "Yeah, okay. I see what you mean. So do you need us to start looking through our arrest files?"

Reid grins and pulls out his phone. "Nah. Garcia loves these kind of searches." He calls and gets her working this angle.

* * *

Just after 2 Morgan and Emily arrive with several bins they want to delve further into. Morgan looks at the others.

"He's a collector, not just a sadistic killer," he states.

Hotch lifts an eyebrow. "Lay it out for us, Morgan."

Morgan gestures to the bins. "Comic books, rape porn, sexual toys. Everything has a bin, his comic books are even preserved in plastic. There are bins for particular toys, bins for types of porn. Everything is in there in chronological order in addition to type. Based on all this, I'd say he is an OCD collector. There is no way he willingly let go of this storage shed."

The others sigh. This practically confirms their unsub is either in jail or dead. But it doesn't help them identify him. Yet. Emily looks at Reid.

"Reid, I want your help with these comics. There are 4 bins of them. Maybe we'll recognize one we can trace due to its' rarity."

Reid nods, trying to hide his excitement. Hotch rolls his eyes.

"Geeks," he mumbles.

Morgan starts to chuckle. "Exactly what I told Princess. If we don't see them again we'll know why."

Reid and Emily ignore the teasing. Emily carries her bin down to another room. Reid finds a dolly and goes to get the others out of the SUV. In the conference room, Rossi and Morgan start to dig into the porn stash, looking for anything that can direct them towards the unsub. Rossi shakes his head.

"These are all 2 years old or more," he notes.

"Could be he keeps his new mags with him," Morgan points out.

"Maybe. Or maybe he puts them in there because they relate to a certain victim." He holds on up. "Look here," he points to a carefully handwritten number "23" beside the table of contents. "Maybe this magazine will tell us what he did to his 23rd victim."

Morgan winces. "It sucks that I think you're right. But it could also give us a time frame for the abduction."

Rossi shrugs. "Maybe not." He flips a few pages until he finds a page showing fingerprint wear along the edges. "Or maybe his 23rd victim was a well-endowed brunette. She fit this fantasy."

Morgan stews on that a second. "You know, that rings right with me."

The agents pull out a few others. Though they are filed in chronological order, they note the numbers beside the table of contents vary in order. Morgan shakes his head.

"He'd save the magazine until he found the right victim. Then when he'd used it, he filed it away. Explains why there are some months missing."

Detective Ambrose frowns. "That's fucking twisted. I am so glad we called y'all in. I don't want to know this fuck the way y'all do."

Hotch nods. "We get that a lot."

* * *

"Whoa...Spawn No. 1," Reid says reverently.

"Yep. I have 1-5 of Lady Pendragon," Emily notes. "He had good taste. These artists are phenomenal."

Reid murmurs in agreement. The comics are binned in alphabetical order by title. Reid shakes his head.

"Every time he started a new series he'd have had to rebin everything. That lends credence to him being an OCD collector."

Emily nods. "Yep." She stares at the bins a second. "Reid, he is into the fantasy comics, not superhero from what I can see. What do you think would be his most coveted find?"

The two think about this a minute. Reid stiffens.

"If it wasn't Spawn, I would say 'The Huntress'. The series only had 3 issues before the artist died."

Emily nods and goes to the second bin. She carefully thumbs through. "Aha! Got it." She pulls out issues 1 and 3. She holds them up. "We need to call comic stores."

Reid nods. "I'll call Garcia...again. Maybe she can troll websites for someone looking for issue 2."

Emily sits down and pulls up a list of comic book stores in the area on her laptop as Reid calls to get Garcia tripping through a vast cyberspace search.

* * *

At 8 p.m. Hotch looks at those in the room. "Garcia, you on with us?"

"Here, sir," the analyst answers.

"Good. So, where are you?"

"Still running full backgrounds as I get names back from the fingerprints run from the Jane Does. I have another tech tasked with checking out comic collector sites for anyone looking for a first edition of 'The Huntress No. 2' though I will warn you that is a coveted issue due to a bunch of them being destroyed in a truck fire during transport to a distribution center. She is crossing anyone she finds with people living in the Charlotte area."

"Excellent."

"I am still running other renters at the facility with death and arrest records in the last year. Will take a while, I'm afraid." She takes a deep breath. "As to the Russian hookers, I have 14 names in and around the Charlotte area. Some show no arrests in the last few years so they are either out of the business, out of the area, or, well, dead."

"Send it. Rossi and Morgan will get to talking to them tomorrow."

"Done, sir."

"Good. Now, go home."

"You won't hear me arguing that," Garcia states. "Talk to you all tomorrow."

Once she hangs up, Hotch looks at Prentiss. "Where do you stand with the store search?"

"I have to go by to see three owners in the morning as they weren't working today. Another owner remembers a guy asking about the issue but he isn't a regular. He's going to sit down with a sketch artist in the morning. Hopefully we can also get that from the other owners and if they match up maybe Garcia can find him. The fifth owner is out of town until Sunday and the assistant I spoke with said there is no one on their list looking for that issue."

"Any names from other wait lists?" Mares asks.

"Not that we haven't already cleared," Emily answers. "This guy that we're getting the sketch on refused to leave contact info which is what raised a red flag. Normally a collector will put his name and number out anywhere he can in hopes of getting the call."

Mares nods. "I believe it."

Hotch looks around. "Okay, tomorrow Reid and I will be here going through anything that comes in overnight. Emily, in addition to speaking to the store owners, go speak with Dr. Nicole Stewart at UNC-Charlotte. She specializes in Egyptoloy and recently returned from a dig in the Valley of the Kings. We need to know if she knows any frustrated students, professors, or anyone with an obsession about learning the mummification process."

"You know, he may not have been a student," Reid interjects.

"What do you mean?"

"He's into fantasy comics. Probably fantasy TV, too. The mummy is a frequent nemesis in this genre. It could be the mummy is his favorite character and he combines that with his need to dominate and kill."

Emily winces. "Oh, fuck...could this guy be hoping these women come back to life, too?"

"Or maybe he worries about that which is why we can't find the organs and why he doesn't stuff the bodies. He doesn't want to give them what they need to come after him," Reid suggests.

Hotch runs a hand through his hair. "This is fucked," he mutters. "Lots of theories, lots of questions. Put it aside tonight and come back tomorrow ready to eliminate some theories and answer some questions."

"And can I just say again, glad you all are the ones getting into this fuck's head," Ambrose says sincerely.

Rossi chuckles. "If I had a dollar for every time we heard that I'd be...well, richer."

The team chuckles and gather their things so they can get back at the case the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

About 7 a.m. JJ wakes up. She reaches out and runs her hand over Emily's pillow, smiling slightly as she remembers the dream that had brought her into this day.

* * *

 _Henry clomps down the stairs and practically throws himself into his seat at the breakfast table. JJ, emptying the dishwasher, looks over at him.  
_

" _Henry, stop stomping down the stairs. You're not an elephant."_

 _Henry just grunts and grabs a box of cereal. JJ studies him a second. The 17 year old is usually a pretty happy-go-lucky kid but something is definitely troubling him._

 _"Are you okay?"_

 _"Fine," he mumbles._

 _"He's got girl problems," his 16 year old sister says as she steps into the kitchen. She goes to the fridge to pull out yogurt and fruit for a breakfast smoothie. "His darling Marcie is, like, giving him the cold shoulder."_

 _"Rocky! Would you SHUT UP! Marcie is just a friend!"_

 _Rocky rolls her eyes. "Sure, Hank. You, like, know you love her."_

 _"SHUT UP!"_

 _"HEY!" JJ interrupts before a fight starts. "Rocky, stop teasing your brother." JJ sits down in front of her son. "What's going on with Marcie? You two have been friends forever."_

 _Henry takes a bite of cereal and stares at the bowl. After he swallows, he looks up at his mother. "I think...I think her dad is abusing her. Like, physically not sexually."_

 _JJ's eyes widen. "What?"_

 _"Yeah. Like, he spanks her and hits her and stuff."_

 _Rocky comes over to the table and sits down. "No way, Hank! She's, like, too old for a spanking."_

 _"What makes you think this is happening, Henry?" JJ asks._

 _"She had this really bad bruise on her arm. She said it's where he held her when he spanked her for getting a bad grade. It was a B-, Mom! That's not bad!"_

 _"Maybe not for you, Hank," Rocky states._

 _"Rock! Contribute or get out," JJ says sternly._

 _Rocky nods and sips her drink. Henry sighs._

 _"And she had another bad bruise on her leg. I saw it when she was on her way to soccer practice. I asked if she got it in a game and she said no her dad did that, too."_

 _Rocky stiffens. "Wait a second...do you mean that, like, rectangular one on her right thigh?" Henry nods. Rocky shakes her head. "No...she said...she said it was, like, from a mountain bike accident. We, like, all asked about it at practice yesterday."_

 _JJ lifts an eyebrow. "Henry, are you sure it's her dad?"_

 _"Yeah. She made me promise not to tell anyone. She kept making excuses for bruises and stuff so I called her on it, you know? She told me then swore me to secrecy."_

 _"Damn, Hank. That was, like, a heavy secret to force on you," Rocky says sympathetically._

 _JJ looks at her daughter. "Has her dad been around practice?"_

 _Rocky shakes her head. "No. It's strange. He used to, like, come all the time but, like, since he lost his job he's, like, never there."_

 _JJ bites her lip a moment then turns to her son. "Henry, call Marcie and see if she wants to come over to study. I'll try to talk to her some. If she is being abused she needs help." She takes her son's hand. "Telling you, even though she swore you to secrecy, was her way of asking for help. We'll make sure she gets the help she needs, okay?"_

 _Henry sighs in relief. "Thanks, Mom. I keep thinking how you and Mama tell us to always listen to that voice in our head telling us something is wrong. That voice has been screaming at me."_

 _Rocky sighs and leans her head on her hand. "Damn it...I've been, like, ignoring that voice. We've got, like, regionals coming up and...and that's what I was thinking about. I, like, suck as a friend."_

 _JJ pats her on the shoulder. "No, you don't. And on a side note, if you don't lose the 'like' every other word I'm going to 'like' throttle you."_

 _Rocky manages a grin. "Right. Mama said the same thing. Sorry."_

 _JJ nods and turns to her son. "Call your friend. Today we get her the help she needs." She glances at her watch. "Mama and the twins should be home from the store soon. She'll be glad to help Marcie, too."_

 _Henry smiles. "Thanks, Mom. I wish I'd come to you sooner."_

 _"You're a good guy, Henry. I'm proud of you."_

 _"Yeah, Hank. Glad you li- -, uh, glad you made her tell you the truth," Rocky agrees, correcting the "like" before her mother can call her on the slip up._

* * *

JJ smiles and glances at a picture of Henry and Rocky on the wall. "I hope you two always stay friends. And I hope you are both as compassionate as that dream suggests you will be."

JJ stretches and goes to the bathroom. She has no big plans for the day except to rest and keep the babies inside. She looks at the nearly healed wounds on her body. She sighs.

"Stitches come out today. Forgot about that." She carefully traces a finger down the stitches from the penetrating knife strike on her arm. "God, things were so fucked that case. I am just so glad he didn't hurt you guys," she says as she rubs her stomach. "I'd have lost my mind if he'd hurt you."

After getting dressed, JJ makes her way downstairs. She sees her mother and Francesca already feeding Rocky and Henry.

"Hi, Mommy!" Henry hollers.

She grins, remembering her dream. "Hi, Hank."

Sandy lifts an eyebrow as Henry looks confused. "Hank?"

JJ chuckles and shakes her head. "Explain later." She kisses the top of his head. "I was kidding, Henry." She then kisses Rocky. "Morning, Rock Star."

"Love Mommy!"

"I love you, too, sweet girl." JJ carefully sits down. "So, since Emily is gone, Mom do you mind taking me to get my stitches out?"

Sandy rolls her eyes. "As if you have to ask. Roads are clear and the temps are supposed to stay in the 60s this week. I think Spring is finally here."

"I sure hope so," JJ agrees as Francesca puts a smoothie in front of her. "Grazie, Francesca." She takes a sip. "You know, Francesca, we never did get to discuss an assistant for you."

Francesca smiles as she sits down with her own breakfast. "Actually, cara, the Fates may be delivering one to us."

JJ lifts a brow. "Really? How's that?"

"You know the Richters?" JJ nods. "Their youngest will be in middle school next year. They have decided they no longer need a nanny. And Rosa was hoping to cut back on her hours anyway now that her daughter is married and planning to start a family. I was thinking after you go back to work I will only really need help for a few months until the twins are a little less needy. Rosa would be able to come in the morning and help me through the day then go home to her family at night. Down the road, once she has a grandchild, I should be fine with the four bambinos."

JJ grins. "Are you sure? I mean, 4 kids are a lot and I don't want to scare you away."

Francesca chuckles. "Four is nothing. There were times I was watching 6 or 7 when I was with Emily as a little one. I can handle your 4 with no problem, cara. Promise."

JJ smiles and nods. "Then I think that sounds perfect. When could Rosa start?"

"When school starts in the fall. Maybe sooner. But we can aim for her to start when you stop breastfeeding and return to work, leaving the babies home."

JJ nods. "Sounds good. I'll tell Emily and she can call you if she has any questions." JJ pauses. "And let's face it: she'll have questions."

Sandy and Francesca chuckle...and agree.

* * *

JJ rolls her eyes. "My appointment was for 20 minutes ago. If I was running this late the doctor would be cancelling my visit and charging me anyway."

Sandy nods. "Very true. Want me to grab some scissors and cut the stitches out myself?"

JJ ponders that a moment. Sandy chuckles.

"I was kidding, Jenny. The doctor will be in soon."

JJ sighs. "I know. I guess...part of me is scared he'll find something wrong with one of the wounds. I couldn't take all the meds the wanted me to because of the twins so I'm worried I have an infection or something that is bad for them, too."

"Jenny," Sandy takes her daughter's hand, "you kept the wounds cleaned, they have no signs of infection, things will be fine. Just relax."

JJ sighs, her hand rubbing her twins. "You know, when Emily was pregnant with Rocky she was so scared she'd hurt her because of the blood pressure issues and stuff. I was always telling her to relax and that things would be fine. Now she has spent a week telling me the same. Funny how things are full circle, eh?"

Sandy grins. "Yes, I guess so." She strokes JJ's head. "Well, since Emily isn't here, I will reiterate: everything is fine, Jenny. Everything is just fine."

JJ smiles. "I believe you. But if the doctor isn't here soon I'm storming out of the room with my credentials and demanding he get his ass in here."

Sandy and JJ laugh, both knowing the younger blonde is only partially joking.

* * *

JJ has just gotten her laptop online when she sees the Skype notification. She eagerly enters the session.

"Hi! Was worried I was going to miss this. Doc taking my stitches out was late."

Shelby smiles. "No problem. I'd have waited. Ashley would have waited, too. Wouldn't you, sweetie?"

JJ's heart melts as she stares at her niece. "Oh, Shelby, she is so, so beautiful! I can't believe she is almost two months old and I have yet to hold her!"

"I know. Darn the weather!"

"Exactly!" JJ agrees with a grin. "So are you all healed up?"

Shelby nods. "Yep. No more pain from the incision and finally cleared to have sex which is helpful in dealing with the hormones still in my system."

JJ chuckles. "I know what you mean. Just make sure Mark is taking care of you properly otherwise I'll send Emily after him."

Shelby grins. "Good to know. So how are you doing? The stitches came out and everything?"

JJ nods. "Yep. Everything that jerk did to me is looking good. My blood pressure was down, too, after the doctor finished. In my head I knew everything was okay but I guess I needed the official opinion to really believe it."

"I can understand that," Shelby notes.

The two continue to chat about pregnancy issues and then talk turns to family.

"So how are Abby and AJ with the new baby?" JJ pauses then giggles. "Still can't believe you did all 'A' names."

Shelby grins. "It just sort of happened with AJ and we figured we needed to complete the set. As to the sibs, Abby rushes in from school eager to change diapers and hold her little sister. AJ finds her a bit boring since all she does is sleep. I think he's over her already."

JJ laughs. "I remember when Henry was like that with Rocky. I'm glad Abby is still eager to help. That must give you a bit of a break until Mark gets home."

"It does. And with my Mom planning to leave this weekend it will be nice to have Abby's help a little. As to Mark, he is such a great father. When he gets home he either takes over Ash or deals with the older 2 depending on my mood. I got pretty lucky."

JJ nods. "I'd say so but some might say I'm a bit biased since he's my brother."

"Maybe." Shelby grins. "But since I agree I may not be the best impartial judge, either."

"MOMMY! IS AUNT SHELBY ON?"

Both women laugh.

"Yes, Henry, Aunt Shelby is on." As little feet start up the stairs from the kitchen, JJ grins at her sister-in-law. "Your fan club is on its way."

"So I hear."

A second later Henry is clambering up onto the bed and cuddling up to his mommy. "Hi, Aunt Shelby! Hi...uh, what's the baby's name again?"

"Ashley," JJ answers.

"Oh, right. Hi, Ashley!"

Rocky had run to the end of the bed where the trunk helps her climb up. She then crawls up to JJ's other side. She waves at the computer.

"Hi!"

"Hi, Henry. Hi, Rocky. Are you two excited for the twins coming soon?"

"Yeah! My brother gonna get a puppy but not 'til him older like I was."

"Want cat," Rocky insists.

"You want your sister to have a cat?" Shelby asks.

"No. Want cat. No sis'er."

JJ hugs her close as Shelby laughs. "Sorry, Rock Star, you put that order in too late."

A few minutes later Sandy joins them. The family spends about an hour chatting, loving it when AJ and Shelby's mother joins them. By the time they hang up, JJ looks at her mother.

"Thank you for coming here so soon after Ashley was born. I really appreciate it."

Sandy kisses her daughter's cheek. "I got to spend a week with her and I will get to spend time with her again in a few weeks. My baby needed me so this is where I had to be."

"Thanks, Mom."

Sandy ushers the kids out of the room so JJ can take a nap and help her body continue to heal and the babies to continue to grow.

* * *

"Hi, sweetheart. Sorry I missed you when you called the kids earlier," JJ says as she answers her phone.

"Well, they told me you'd had a pretty busy day for a woman on bed rest so I thought I'd give you the benefit of a call back," Emily teases.

JJ grins. "Yeah, I guess it was sort of busy. Shelby sends her love. And Ashley is getting cuter and cuter every day."

Emily grins. "That's great. Glad you had a chance to talk to her. So all went okay with the doctor?"

"Other than him being so late I was ready to scream, yes, all was good. Everything is healing as it should and that bastard's actions should be distant memories in no time."

"You don't know how happy I am to hear that, baby. And the twins are okay?"

JJ rubs her stomach. "No more or less active than normal so I think they are doing fine. I think they miss your singing, though. They get a little restless when I nap."

Emily smiles. "Put the phone down there."

JJ puts the phone on speaker and places it on her tummy. Emily starts to softly sing their song. The twins momentarily get active them immediately calm. JJ can't help but believe they were turning so they could hear their mama better. When it ends the babies are gently moving, as if lulled by the music.

"Once again you hypnotize them, baby," JJ says to her wife.

Emily smiles. "Being so far away I can't do much to help but I sure can try."

"You're doing fine, baby. I promise." JJ thinks about her dream earlier. "It's funny, I had a dream this morning in which Henry and Rocky were teenagers. I never saw the twins, they were out with you or something. I guess God wasn't ready for me to see what they look like."

"Guess not. So what were the older two like?"

"Well, Henry went by the name Hank, at least to his sister and friends. And Rocky was a soccer star and teammates with a girl Henry had a crush on but she was in trouble and he wanted to help her. I woke up hoping they will be that compassionate in real life. I was so proud of them. It kind of followed me into waking life at first and took me a second to remember it was just a dream."

"Sounds like a great dream."

"It was. So, what's up with the case?" JJ asks.

Emily sighs. "It is...God, Jen, it is horrible. This guy isn't just a sexual sadist, he's a collector. Has comics and magazines organized and going back years. Worst is, his porn stash has numbers inside that we think coincide with which victim he acted out his fantasies with."

"Oh how horrible!"

"Yeah. We're hoping his comic book collection can help us find him. We found some issues he is missing and in talking to stores there is a guy that has asked about one in particular but he won't leave his contact info."

"Getting a sketch done?"

"Yep. Have a couple more stores to talk to tomorrow and if we can get sketches from all who have seen him maybe Garcia can work her magic with him. There is no way this guy doesn't have a record."

"No kidding. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well, to paraphrase what you told me when I was on bed rest: yes, you can stay in bed, rest and have healthy, happy babies in a few weeks."

JJ smiles. "I think that's an order I can obey. But if you all need an extra eye on- -"

"Jennifer...no," Emily says firmly.

JJ chuckles. "Not going to win this, am I?"

"Nope. Not with me, not with anyone so don't try calling Garcia or Reid, either."

JJ laughs. "You think you're so smart, don't you."

"Tell me it didn't cross your mind," Emily challenges in amusement.

"Well..."

"Uh huh. Nice try, Agent Jareau. Hang up the badge and just concentrate on being Mommy Prentiss. The kids need you."

JJ runs a hand over her stomach. "Yeah, I know. Just don't want you all getting comfy without me."

"Never, honey. We miss your insight but we all care more about you getting the rest you need for the three of you."

"I know. Thank you, sweetheart."

The two talk a little longer but Emily finally puts her foot down. "Well, I need to get to bed. I have a long day tomorrow talking to comic book store owners and college professors. And you have a long day incubating my babies."

JJ grins. "True on all counts. Be safe tomorrow, sweetheart. If this guy really is a collector, he's got to be pissed you all are in his stuff."

"We know. We still can't figure out how he let it happen unless he is dead or in jail. Once we confirmed the registered owner didn't exist we've been trying to figure out how exactly to find this guy. Hopefully one of Garcia's searches will hit on a solid lead for us. There are a lot of women who deserve justice."

"Amen to that. If you need to vent, you know where to reach me."

"Yes, I do. I love you, baby."

"I love you, too. Night, honey."

"Night, Jen."

JJ hangs up the phone and sighs as she rubs her stomach. "Guys, try to stay in until she gets home, okay? Some people really need the help from our team." She grins. "You say okay."

Giggling to herself, JJ gets up to brush her teeth and get ready to watch some mindless TV until she falls asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

At 5:23 in the morning, he knows because he was staring at the clock as he opens his eyes, "Tweaker" Boback awakes with the distinct feeling he is not alone. At first he assumes it's just the paranoia associated with his drug use.

But then hands grab him and drag him from the bed.

"WHOA?! STOP! WHO IS IT?"

His back is slammed against the wall and he stares into the furious eyes of his benefactor.

"You had one job, Tweaker," the man says, his voice calm despite the fire in his eyes. "Do you even remember what the job was, you pathetic druggie?"

Tweaker swallows. "Uh, I just...had to pay a bill for you each month."

"Very good. And did you do that, Tweaker?" the man asks, again with a disconcerting calm.

Tweaker shrugs. "Uh, I, um...might have...forgotten a time or two."

The man pulls him forward then slams him back into the wall again. "YOU FORGOT FOR ALMOST A YEAR!" he screams.

"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'll...I'll pay it tomorrow! I swear!"

"It's too late, you stupid fuck. They sold off one of my lockers and now the police have part of my collection. Do you know how long I had to work to collect all those specimens, not to mention my magazines and my comic books? They have it all, Tweaker." He takes a deep breath, nearly sickened by the rotten smell of the meth head. "You have one chance to make things right. Where is the money, Tweaker?"

"The, um, money?" he asks in confusion.

He is slammed into the wall once more. "THE MONEY YOU DIDN'T PAY THE FACILITY!"

"Oh, uh, I might have...kinda used it." He starts to cry and plead. "I was in deep with some dealers and they were going to kill me if I didn't pay up! I'm sorry! I had to...had to pay them! They were gonna kill me! I swear!"

Tweaker relaxes a little as he is released. The man straightens the grimy shirt the addict is wearing, even straightens his hair a little. Tweaker lets his guard down due to the caring gestures.

And then takes an ice pick in his heart.

He can't even scream as the pick is twisted and turned and then yanked out. Tweaker drops to his knees and then crumples to the floor dead.

Clay Pritchett drops down and wipes the pick off on Tweaker's shirt.

"Stupid fuck. Both of us. But only you pay with your life, asshole."

Pritchett walks out of the rundown building full of other junkies. No one will see him and even if they do their addled minds won't remember him. Inside he is still seething. The cops have his things. Well, most of them.

"Time to start collecting the dregs anew," he mutters and leaves to go get ready to start his day job.

* * *

Emily eases in the door of the classroom and sits down in the back row. There are 20 minutes left in the class and she finds herself enthralled as the professor talks about the amazing technology the Ancient Egyptians used to create monuments that last to this day. Slides from her personal collection, her own trips, help illustrate her talk and keep anyone from getting bored.

When it ends, Emily has a moment of regret that she hadn't arrived earlier and wouldn't have time to attend more sessions. She maintains her seat as several students remain behind to ask their professor questions. When the last student appears to be finished, Emily stands and begins to walk down the aisle to the front. The professor grins.

"You're either a reporter or a new professor I haven't had a chance to meet since my return to Ancient Studies," Dr. Nicole Stewart says with a friendly smile.

Emily chuckles. "Two strikes, Dr. Stewart. Before you risk an out, let me introduce myself. I'm SSA Emily Prentiss with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"Whoa! Guess that's how you knew my love of baseball would be a way to break the ice."

Emily grins. "Our analyst sent me a full bio on you. You've had a very impressive career."

"Thank you. I have to say it's not often your reality exceeds your dreams but I'm one of the lucky ones that experienced that phenomena."

"I'm happy for you. Now, I know you haven't been back long but have you seen the news about the findings at a local storage facility?"

Stewart sighs and nods. "Yes. In fact, the medical examiner called me to confirm a few aspects of the pseudo-mummification. I am not sure the depravity of man could ever surprise me more."

Emily lifts a brow. "I wish I could say that depravity still surprised me. Shocked me, disgusted me, yes. But it didn't surprise me." She takes a deep breath. "The person that committed these crimes is well-versed in mummification techniques. We were wondering if you have former students, most likely one who didn't complete their matriculation, who might raise a red flag for you. This person would have been obsessive compulsive in several areas: categorizing reading material, particular about where he sat and had to have everything just so at his desk, he would have asked very good questions and paid special attention to your answers. If he was a grad student, he may have considered, or even started, a thesis on the intricacies of mummification." She pauses. "And on some level, your instinct would have told you something is off about him. He was too into the process; too into you, Dr. Stewart."

Stewart sharply breathes in. "Oh my God..."

"That registers with you?"

Stewart slowly nods. "Yes. The other aspects had been familiar but there was one student, and he was in the master's program, who seemed overly obsessed with me. Other professors noticed it, too."

"His name?"

"Dexter Gold. He was the reason I took the trip to Egypt. Yes, it was a wonderful opportunity but I wasn't up for the year away. Another professor stepped aside to give me the chance. Gold was becoming a stalker and we all figured if I left it would give him a chance to get out of the program and away from me."

"Did it work?"

Stewart shrugs. "He was away from me. Turns out he dropped out as soon he found out I wasn't going to be around for a year." She takes a deep breath. "To tell you the truth, there are times I get a hinky feeling I'm being watched and, well, I wonder if he's still here somewhere just watching me."

Emily nods. "Always trust that voice."

"I do."

"Do you happen to have contact information for Gold?"

"I can get it. Not sure if it's still valid or not."

"It's a start," Emily states. "Our analyst can track him if he's moved. Anything you have on him is appreciated."

"Okay. Come on back to my office."

Emily follows her back and gets all the information Stewart has. She texts it to Garcia and tells the analyst to put a rush on it: not only is he a suspect in their case he's a potential stalker.

"If you have any questions or if Gold calls you, please do not hesitate to call me," Emily says offering her card. "Out of curiosity, do you live alone?"

"No. I am living with my boyfriend, Clay Pritchett."

Emily frowns. "Clay Pritchett? Does he own a comic book store?"

Stewart seems surprised. "Um, yes, actually he does. Why?"

Emily smiles. "Major coincidence. The unsub collected comic books and we're talking to stores in the area to see if they have had anyone looking for certain issues. I will be heading to his store later today."

"Oh. Wow. Well, Clay keeps a detailed list of people hunting for comics. I'm sure he can help."

Emily nods. "Good to know." She offers her hand. "Thank you for your time. Again, any questions or additional information, give me a call."

"Thank you, Agent Prentiss. If I think of anyone else who could be your suspect I'll let you know. Good luck finding this guy."

"Thanks."

Emily makes her way back to her SUV, crossing her fingers that Gold is their man.

* * *

Hotch and Reid stare at the stack of tips on the table. The chief looks at his agent.

"You want tips or Garcia searches?"

"I'll take tips. No offense to you but I read faster and can get rid of the wrong ones faster."

Hotch grins. "No offense taken. Go for it."

Reid sits down and starts to flip through the lead forms, separating them into piles only he understands. Hotch watches a second, then shakes his head and gets his laptop fired up to start weeding through the information Garcia's programs had pulled for them overnight. He sighs.

"More bodies identified. All are prostitutes."

"Strange. No low risk victims of opportunity yet," Reid notes.

Hotch glances up at the doctor. "What if...this is his high risk collection? He's an OCD collector with careful separation of his comics and magazines. Seems to me there would be a separation in victimology, too."

Reid frowns and runs the probabilities of that theory in his head. "I think you're right."

Hotch grabs his phone. "I'm calling Garcia. We need to know how close her search of the various storage facilities are going. There is a crossover somewhere we just have to find it."

Reid nods and goes back to work on the tips as Hotch follows up with the analyst.

"Oracle of Quantico, how may I astound you?"

"Garcia, I know you probably just got in but- -"

"Actually I have been here an hour, sir, as I got a whole bunch of hits last night and wanted to start weeding them out before sending them to you," she interrupts.

Hotch smiles. "You go above and beyond, Garcia. Out of curiosity, is one of those hits on your check of storage facilities?"

"Uh, no, sir. Mostly on crossover on the victims. Obviously a lot spent time in the same jail at the same time when vice had raids. I am trying to weed out those hits from legitimate places they lived or spent time."

"Well done. It won't be easy with so many names."

"You say that like it should shock me, sir," she says sardonically.

Hotch chuckles. "Right. Anyway, Reid and I have a theory about the unsub. We believe his victims may be cataloged as OCD as his comics."

"Uh, meaning what, Hotch?"

"Meaning around the time he got this storage facility he got at least 1 other, possibly 2 others. They would be for high risk victims that he just couldn't pass up and medium risk victims that inadvertently put themselves in his sights. I would say all 3 units would have been rented within 1 month of the first one."

"Okay. So is this unit his first?"

"Most likely. To be safe, narrow your search to two months either side of this origination date. Concentrate on units paid for by money order."

"Got it. Will get that narrowed down and get back to you ASAP."

"Good work, Garcia." Hotch hangs up and looks at Reid. "How are the tips?"

Reid sighs. "Seems like a lot of people know comic book collectors that give them the creeps. But other than that, not very fruitful."

"Damn. Well, keep at it and cross your fingers."

Reid nods and continues to sort tips while Hotch starts to filter the information Garcia had already sent.

* * *

The woman takes a drag on her cigarette as she studies Rossi and Morgan.

"And what do I get if I tell you these things you wish to know?" she asks with a slightly exotic accent.

Rossi pulls a $50 out of his pocket. "This without having to take off your clothes. Five minutes of your time is all we need."

She takes another drag, slowly blowing the smoke away from the agent. Finally she shrugs and puts out her palm. "Okay. Ask."

Rossi retains the money. "Business first this time." He holds up a line-up card showing 6 of the identified women. "These women were murdered, their bodies found mummified in a storage locker. By their names and certain physical markers we determined they are Russian. Do you happen to know them?"

The woman stamps out her cigarette and takes the card. She studies each face then shakes her head. "No."

Rossi hands her a second card. "What about these women?"

The woman takes the card. Both agents see her eyes flicker with recognition. "Stacia." She looks up at Rossi. "Number 4. Her name is Stacia. I thought...thought she had maybe mouthed off once too many times."

"Mouthed off? To who?" Morgan asks.

The woman lifts an eyebrow and looks at Morgan like he's an idiot. "As if you don't know who controls us. Stacia came to the States on a student visa. Something happened and she lost it but she did not want to return to Russia. Boris befriended her, offered her assistance. She was in debt to him before she knew it and she was angry. Boris...got her..." she thinks a moment before coming up with a word, "...unangry. He set a time frame for how long she would work to pay her debt. One night she did not return. I assumed, as did we all, that she ran or...well, the other option."

"How did Boris get her 'unangry'?" Morgan asks.

She gives him a hard look. "He can be very persuasive. You will not get me to say anything bad about him. He takes care of us. Soon...soon I will be free of him and have a chance to pursue my American Dream."

Morgan sighs. "There are better ways."

"Perhaps. Maybe if you come with money. Or as a student. Or as a worker with skills. But for me...Boris is my first step. Who are you to judge?" she challenges angrily.

Rossi stops Morgan before he speaks again. "We're not judging you. We just want to know what we can about Stacia and others like her. We need to know where he hunts so we can stop him. Did anyone ever give you a wary feeling? Something that made you think no money was worth it?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "Happens a lot."

Rossi shakes his head. "Not like this guy. He would have seemed normal but still would have set off alarm bells. He would have looked nice, maybe a bit shy in mannerisms but in his eyes you would have seen the predator hiding inside."

She thinks hard but shakes her head. "That doesn't sound familiar to me. I can ask around if you like?"

Rossi nods, handing her his card along with the $50. "We'd appreciate that. Tell Boris he can call, too, if any of that sounds familiar to him."

"You will not arrest him?"

"This is about finding a killer before he strikes again. That's all. You have my word," he assures her.

"The word of the police in my hometown was worse than cow manure," she points out.

Rossi chuckles. "Well, we're the FBI not the police so give us a chance."

She grins. "I like you, Agent Rossi. I will tell Boris you are okay."

He grins at her, his eyes sincere. "I'm honored. Thank you for your time."

She pulls out another cigarette and suddenly Rossi has his Zippo out to light it for her. She grins and nods her thanks. When the agents get back to their SUV, Morgan looks at the older agent.

"Smooth with the lighter. You always carry it?"

"Of course. You never know when a lovely lady will need her cigarette lit. It was quite useful while I was still playing the field."

Morgan laughs. "Oh, Rossi, remind me to take notes on your many moves."

Rossi just grins as they go to track down the next woman on their list.

* * *

Emily extends her hand. "Clay Pritchett?"

The man nods. "That's me," he says with an easy smile.

"SSA Emily Prentiss, FBI," she introduces herself.

The man chuckles. "Nic told me you'd be by. I think I have what you need over here."

Emily nods. "Thanks. So how much did she tell you?"

"Enough to get me running over my regulars in my head as well as trying to remember any newcomers looking for back issues. I have to say, none of my regulars seem the type to do what the news is saying. Most are just guys who still love the stories and artistry. The artists who create these books are amazing! They can make the images jump off the page and- -uh, sorry. You are here about a killer, not to get a lesson in why I love comic books," he says, blushing.

Emily smiles. "It's okay. Part of the reason I was sent here is I am a geek in disguise. I agree with you about the artistry in the books, especially the fantasy series' that seem to be a favorite of our unsub."

"Uh...unsub?"

"It means 'unknown subject'. It's how we refer to the killer until we have a name."

"Ah, okay. So, I was thinking, I have had 2 people who recently stopped in looking for old issues. Normally I can put them on a list and start shopping around for them but these two refused that service. The first guy was looking for an old X-Men comic where we first meet Rogue."

Emily shakes her head. "Not him. He's into fantasy: Lady Pendragon, Spawn: the Dark Ages, etc.," she explains, not wanting to give away the names of the books that the unsub had needed.

Pritchett frowns. "Then the next guy isn't yours either. He was looking for a Batman issue."

"Damn. I hate to ask this, but are any of your regulars in search of any fantasy back issues?"

Pritchett nods. "Sure. I mean, sometimes you see an artist's name so you buy the book. If you like it, maybe you start trying to track down the series. Some people collect just based on an artist so they will be looking for any issue they might have missed that their hero inked. If you can let me know specific books that are being looked for I can maybe narrow things down for you."

"I appreciate that but right now we are still cataloging that evidence. Once that is done my boss can make the decision whether or not to release that information."

"Understood. Well, anything I can do to help I will do."

Emily nods. "Thank you. Well, if anyone comes in suddenly needing a lot of comics, let me know. We have most, if not all, of his collection. A mind like his won't be able to handle that loss."

Pritchett stiffens up, his nice guy demeanor doing a 180. "What the hell does that mean?"

Emily lifts an eyebrow. "Pardon me?"

"What do you mean his mind won't be able to handle it? You don't even know this guy and you assume he is unstable or something because he reads comic books?"

"No, Mr. Pritchett, I think he is unstable because he has been collecting books, magazines and bodies for a long time and now my team has them. He is not going to be happy and he is going to start looking to replace them. He will be desperate to replace them because he doesn't like to have his things disturbed or out of order. His mind is probably torn up with images of us dismantling his collection, touching the books with our bare hands, using print dust and other chemicals on them looking for evidence."

"Are...are you all really going to do all that?" he asks, his hands twitching nervously.

Emily nods. "Yes. It's already being done."

Pritchett drops into a chair, his face registering shock. "My God...yeah, okay, I can see someone freaking about that. And it will drive the price up on the books he collects because if all that happens his collection will be worthless. He wants revenge for that."

Emily's eyes narrow at the last statement. It wasn't speculative, it was definitive. "Mr. Pritchett, I ask again, do you think you know this man?"

Pritchett slowly shakes his head. "No. No, he is not one of my customers. But, uh, I will call you if anyone comes in acting desperate or something."

"Thank you," Emily says, handing him her card. "I appreciate your time."

Pritchett just nods as Emily walks out. He waits a second then walks to the door to watch as she walks across the parking lot to her SUV.

"Stupid fucking bitch," he mutters. "You're damn lucky I am too fucking smart to add you to my collection. I am not desperate but I so want to destroy you for ruining all 3 of my collections in that locker."

As she had walked, Emily pulls out her phone. "Garcia, I need you to run Clay Pritchett. He owns a comic book store, he's the boyfriend of the Egyptologist, and he gave me one answer that didn't seem right."

"Just one answer?"

"Yep. One answer after a strange reaction to my summation of the unsub. I could be wrong but better safe than sorry."

"Damn right, Mama Prentiss. Hit you back when I have something."

"You rock, Garcia."

"Yes...yes, I do."

Emily grins as Garcia signs off. On to the next comic book store.

* * *

"Ah, Agents Morgan and Rossi, I presume. Please, have a seat," Boris Petrovich says amiably, gesturing to the two empty seats at his lunch table.

Morgan starts to decline but Rossi sits down. "Thank you." Morgan rolls his eyes and takes the other seat.

"Now, I understand you have found my Stacia?"

Rossi nods. "Yes. And perhaps more of your girls." He slides over the various pictures they have so far. "There are some with no names and others still haven't been identified so we may come to you with more."

As Boris picks up the photos a waiter appears at the table with sweet teas for both agents. Their host smiles.

"I am assuming you cannot partake in wine with your lunch?" he asks.

Rossi nods. "Yes. Unfortunately."

Morgan leans forward. "Look, Mr. Petrovich, we're not here for lunch and we're not here to chat. We simply want justice for these women that were murdered."

Boris gives Morgan a condescending smile. "You must eat, Agent. You have spent the morning tracking down my ladies and others who...work at night, shall we say. This restaurant has some of the best barbeque in North Carolina. Please, allow me to treat you?"

Rossi nods. "We'd appreciate that. But first, who was stalking your women? Surely you saw someone at some point that caught your eye?"

Boris slowly looks at the photos. Both agents are surprised to see a genuine sadness in his eyes as he looks at the ones who had once worked for him. He sighs and lays the array on the table.

"I assumed...they had simply run away." He looks frustrated as he taps his skull with his finger. "I even had it in my head that they were helping each other esca- -uh, relocate from my domicile. A sort of...underground railroad for girls looking to move on from my employment prior to meeting the terms of their contracts."

Morgan shakes his head in amusement. "Who are you trying to convince that they weren't hookers you pimped out? Look, we're not vice, we're not looking to pin these murders on you. Stop dodging the questions! Show these women some respect in death that you never gave them in life. Did anyone strike you as paying the wrong kind of attention to them or not?"

Boris sits back and glare at Morgan. "You are rude." He looks at Rossi. "I will speak only with you."

"That's fine," Rossi replies, then gestures to Morgan. "Pretend I just said all that and asked the last question. We're not here to be your buddies. We're here to do more for these ladies than you ever did."

Boris' face reddens and he tosses the photos back at Rossi. "Leave. I saw nothing. I know nothing." He levels a finger at the agents. "But mark my words: if I find the man that cost me so much money before you catch him...you'll never officially close these cases."

Just as the food arrives, Morgan and Rossi stands. Rossi lays his business card on the table.

"If you think of anything else, call me. We want justice for these women. Help us do that for them."

Boris just grunts his dismissal. Morgan and Rossi walk out the front door and pause. After a second Morgan looks at Ross.

"That BBQ smelled so damn good! Where are you taking me to lunch, old man?"

Rossi chuckles. "The police station. Time to start bring everything we know together. We need to get ahead of this man before he comes after us or just starts collecting again."

Morgan reluctantly nods as they get in the SUV.

* * *

At Emily's third comic book shop of the day a white-haired man in his mid-60's smiles at her. "Well, well, well...the Feds in my shop. Who'd've thought it?"

Emily grins when she sees the twinkle in his eyes. "What gave away that I am a Fed?"

"Just a look about you." He pauses a second. "And Wally just called me to let me know you were on your way. His description of you didn't do you justice."

Emily blushes. "Thank you." She sees the dust circles on a couple of shelves. "You know, if he called to warn you to hide...certain items...you might hope I'll turn to look at this X-Men Gold Foil edition while you grab the certain items behind you."

Brian "Snowman" Bernstein laughs as he turns and uses a couple of tee shirts to hide the bongs behind the counter. He had forgotten about those. Emily turns back around and walks up to the counter, extending her hand.

"SSA Emily Prentiss."

He shakes her hand. "My friends call me Snowman. Have since I went grey at 30."

Emily nods. "You wear the grey well."

"Thank you. Now, let me save you some time." He hands her a list. "This is my list of people looking for certain comics."

"You're mighty open with this considering you seem to be more than a little liberal," Emily notes.

"True. But I watch the news. If one of these people did to those poor girls what was done to them, liberal or not, I want them stopped. That man is a monster."

"Well said," Emily agrees. "Did any of these men strike you as odd?"

Snowman shakes his head. "Not really. Wait...except one man..." He takes the list and draws his finger down it. "This one! If I didn't know better, I'd say this guy was homeless." Emily's ears perk up. "He had the comics written down on a piece of paper. True collectors know what they need by heart."

"I believe that." She notes the comics the man is looking for and sees 4 of the missing editions she and Reid had noticed when they catalogued the collection. "How did he say to reach him?"

"He didn't. Said he would just keep checking with me. I didn't even add him to the list until his third visit. I started to think he might be a ringer for another store."

"A ringer?"

"Oh, yeah. I admit, I have a few that check out my competitors. I want to know what special items they have and they want to know what I have. Say I get a regular that wants something Wally or one of the others has, I send in a ringer to buy it and then up the price when I get it back here."

Emily grins. "Capitalism at its best."

Snowman chuckles. "Exactly!"

"Any chance you have surveillance video of him?"

Snowman shakes his head. "Afraid not. Discs copy over themselves every 7 days."

"Damn."

"But maybe I can help a little," he offers.

He reaches under his counter and pulls out a sketchpad. He flips to an open page, grabs a well-sharpened pencil and begins to draw. Emily watches in awe as he quickly draws a detailed headshot of the man from the list. He finishes and slides the sketchbook to her.

"There he is. David Carmen."

Emily smiles and carefully tears out the sketch. Curiosity gets the best of her and she flips back a few pages, staring at the amazing scenes that practically jump off the page: a space ship in an unknown galaxy; a centaur in full battle gear reared up and screaming at an unseen enemy; a cyborg in hand-to-hand combat with a robot. She suddenly stops, her eyes locked on the three-letter signature in the bottom corner of scene showing a soldier racing towards an exploding building. She slowly looks up at the store owner.

"I'll be damned...you're B.S. Berns."

The man's eyes widen in surprise. "Either you did some deep background work on me or you are the most beautiful comic book junkie to ever enter my store."

Emily starts to smile. "You did the art for one of my favorite mini-series: The Range Wars. I loved the storyline: a cross between Star Wars and a John Wayne western. And then I found another series you did: a post-apocalyptic 'Alice in Wonderland'. The story was a bit hokey but your drawings were...I think some gave me nightmares they were so real!"

Snowman blushes. "Thank you."

"Why did you stop drawing? I watched for new releases by you for years!"

Snowman's smile fades. "My wife...died in childbirth. So did my son."

"Oh, I am so sorry," Emily says sympathetically.

Snowman shrugs. "After that...fantasy, comics...none of it interested me anymore. I had been slapped so hard in the face by reality I couldn't believe in the release of the comic book world anymore. Took me 10 years to even pick up a sketchpad. By then," he shrugs, "the comic world had forgotten about me. I can't say I was too eager to be found, either. I got into advertising and a few years ago bought this shop. I still doodle, as you see, but...well...who would want a washed-up old artist to ink a book now."

Emily pats his hand. "You are still amazing, Snowman. I think the publishers would be fools not to hire you if you wanted to work for them."

He smiles. "You are kind, Agent Prentiss. But it is a moot point because I am happy right where I am."

"That's good. And now I can tell a friend I have the answer to a question we have debated."

Snowman chuckles. "Glad I could help...both with the case and the debate."

Emily hands him a card. "If Carmen comes back or anyone else catches your eye as odd, please give me a call."

"I will. Good luck, Agent Prentiss."

"Thank you. For everything."

Emily leaves the store eager to get the sketch scanned in and emailed to Garcia for her to search...and ecstatic about getting to tell Reid she had been right all along: B.S. Berns had simply stopped drawing. He did NOT return to his mother planet in another dimension as Reid had postulated.

* * *

Garcia grabs her phone and quickly calls Hotch. She had been worried that the search of the storage facilities wouldn't be fruitful but she had uncovered a set of 10 renters who pay with money order each month instead of by direct withdrawal.

"What do you have, Garcia?"

"Ten people who prefer to pay 2 months in advance so they can pay via money order instead of by direct debit each month," she answers.

Hotch grins. "Excellent! Can I assumed that is the email I just received?"

"Of course, sir. Names, addresses, and place of business if they had one."

Hotch frowns. "What do you mean if they had one?"

"Well, from what I can tell, at least 4 of these men are probably homeless. Now, you can understand if they are doing their best to cling on to their possessions even if they have lost their homes but it still seems like more people than you would expect."

"Definitely. Well done, Garcia."

"Thanks! Back to my other searches."

He hangs up and looks at Reid. "Garcia found 10 names for us. Let's go interview these renters. Anyone throws up a red flag we'll get a police tail on them and try to get a warrant for their locker."

Reid nods and grabs his things. Soon the two agents are heading out to hopefully prove or disprove their theory that there are other lockers for this unsub.

* * *

When Emily gets to the police station she finds the background on Clay Pritchett is waiting in her email. She starts to read it, liking it less and less as she goes.

"You're not quite who you say you are, Clay," she murmurs.

Born Clayton Zucker, he first drew the attention of local police when his neighbor accused him of torturing their pet cat. Clayton had said he just wanted to play with it but it squealed and made him mad. He was let off with a warning. Within a year, that same neighbor had lost both the cat and 2 dogs. Clayton was accused every time one went missing but there was never any proof he had anything to do with the missing pets.

"Step 1 on the path to serial killer, Clay," Emily notes.

Throughout his teenage years Clayton was in and out of trouble: harassing, peeping, stalking, and lots of accusations of abusing animals. None of the accusations led to anything more than slaps on the wrist or a little community service.

"Why the hell weren't you given jail time?"

Emily checks the other files Garcia had sent and finds her answers. "Damn...Daddy was the D.A. That had to have been helpful for you. A lot of people probably wrote off your crimes as just rebellion. Instead you were a serial killer being given unfettered chances to learn."

She goes back to Pritchett's history. When he was 21 he changed his last name to his mother's maiden name. Reason given was that he was from a small town where his father's last name was too well known. To make his own way he needed the anonymity of a new name.

"And a chance to start doing more than just being a stalking nuisance. Zucker had a history; Pritchett is clean. So what have you been doing the last 20 years or so, Clay?"

"Who's Clay?"

"SONOFABITCH!" Emily squeaks and nearly jumps out of her seat.

Morgan and Rossi both start to laugh. Emily blushes.

"You guys suck," she growls.

"Sorry, Princess, wasn't trying to scare you," Morgan tells her. "What had you so distracted you didn't hear us come in?"

"A possible suspect," Emily answers.

Morgan's smile is wiped from his face. "Seriously?"

Emily nods. "Seriously. First store owner I spoke with today sort of sent up a red flag. Garcia ran his history for me and that red flag is billowing in the breeze."

"Run it down for us, kid," Rossi encourages.

Emily tells them what she has found so far. When she finishes she shrugs. "Just starting into his college years so not sure what he has done between childhood and now but in another wild coincidence, his girlfriend is Dr. Stewart, the Egyptologist I spoke with this morning."

Rossi and Morgan are both nodding by the time she is done. Rossi leans on the table.

"If he is our unsub, we'll need a way to get him to trip himself up."

"I think I know what to do," Emily states. "He got upset when I insulted the unsub. If we can get Hotch to read the right statement to the media, he'll feel the need to insert himself into the investigation."

Morgan shrugs. "Maybe. Or maybe he goes after you or some other woman with a plan on leaving her a way to prove he isn't mentally off."

Emily slumps in her seat. Stepping back a moment and opening her mind up tells Emily he is right. He's a narcissistic collector. They have to be careful or they could lose him.

"Shit...," she mumbles.

"But the info you got is great, Emily. Hang on to it and let's see what other leads we drum up," Rossi encourages her.

Emily takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Right. Okay, I'm ready to get back at it."

"Good. If you need a hand, we're here for you, kid," Rossi reminds her.

Emily gives him a smile. "Thanks, Rossi. How did your day go?"

"The Russian pimp is not guilty of these killings. And I'd say if he finds the unsub first, we may never get a crack on him. "

"And not all these women are pimped by him," Morgan tells her. "We're back to waiting for their i.d.'s to hit."

As if he had willed it to happen, the phone rings and it is Garcia. Morgan leans forward and hits the speaker button.

"You're on speaker, Garcia."

"Okay, I have 5 more i.d.'s for you all and proof this guy has been working longer than the 3 years he had this storage facility. Bad news is: the women went missing in Charleston, SC."

"Shit," Morgan mutters. "That's why he's not on the radar here."

Emily starts to flip through her information on Pritchett. "Damn...nothing to show he had a connection to Charleston. Nowhere in South Carolina, in fact."

"Check the background for one Dexter Gold. He was born and raised in Charleston," Garcia points out.

Emily lifts an eyebrow. "Any word on what he's been up to the last year?"

"Has had three jobs, all at minimum wage, right there around the university," Garcia replies.

"So he stayed in the area after Dr. Stewart left. She says at times she feels like she's being watched." Emily looks at the other 2 agents. "We need to speak with Dexter Gold."

Morgan nods and stands. "You and I can handle that. You'll know the mummy questions to ask."

Emily nods. "Right."

"I'll keep going through leads. If Hotch beats you all back I'll tell him you're on to something. If anything goes south, call," Rossi warns them.

"His current address is in your phones now," Garcia says.

Morgan and Emily leave, hoping to find Gold. Rossi has Garcia send the bios of the South Carolina victims so he can start trying to figure out how they ended up in a storage facility in North Carolina.

* * *

At the second location they visit, Hotch and Reid find out one of the questionable lockers was paid for by money order each month but that the man that pays is not the man that rented the space.

"Could they be related?" Hotch asks.

The woman at the counter shakes her head. "Nope. Man who rented it is white. Man who pays every month is black. He looks to be homeless but he is here the first of the month every month unless the first is a Sunday. Those months he is here on Saturday to make sure the locker doesn't fall into arrears."

"Very conscientious. Tell me, do you have master keys to the locks?" Reid asks.

"Nope. For all we care, the renters don't have to lock it. They are responsible for the locks and for whatever they have in storage," she answers.

"Any chance we can get a look in that locker?" Hotch asks hopefully.

She slowly shakes her head. "I'm sorry but not without a warrant. If you are wrong we set up ourselves up for a lawsuit. I'm sorry."

Hotch nods. "We understand." He hands her a card. "If either man returns, please give us a call immediately."

"I will. And I'll set an alert on the computer to let us know if their entry code is used on the gate after hours."

"Thank you."

Hotch and Reid make their way out to the SUV. Hotch sighs.

"She's right. We've no cause to look at anything in any of these facilities without a warrant and we don't have a damn thing that will get us one."

"Maybe we're doing this wrong," Reid suggests.

"How so?"

"Instead of looking at the facilities where the bodies are stored we need to look at the supplies he needed for the mummification. The amount of olive oil needed to bathe the body, the wine, the salt, not to mention all the bins."

Hotch nods. "I see what you're saying. Find the buyer, find the unsub."

"Yes. And I doubt he'd use a place like Sam's Club or anywhere else that would require membership because he could be tracked. Most likely he's just buying it off the shelf at a grocery store or box store like Walmart or Target," Reid surmises.

"And sadly even with those purchases he'll probably be just another anonymous shopper."

"Maybe in the past. But if we alert these stores to be watching for these items in the same combination in a single purchase it may ring a bell from a previous trip or at least make someone call us if they are being bought in that combination again."

Hotch thinks about this a second. "You're right. We need to put some sort of warning out." He glances at his watch. "Let's get back to the precinct. I need to prepare for another press conference. If the others are back, you can go with someone else to track down the other storage lockers. Even if it's a dead end, let's take a look at it."

Reid nods and gets into the SUV. As they drive, both agents struggle to come up with a better way to track down this unsub before another woman finds herself in the hands of a madman.

* * *

Morgan and Emily pause as they approach the door of the apartment were Dexter Gold lives. Emily shakes her head.

"Splintered door frame."

"Not good," Morgan mutters.

As they get closer the smell of decomposition reaches their nose.

"Really not good," Emily adds.

Both agents pull their gun. Morgan knocks on the door, which pops open.

"MR. GOLD? THIS IS THE FBI! WE'VE JUST BEEN ASKED TO CHECK ON YOU! WE'RE COMING IN!"

He looks to Emily who nods. They enter the apartment. The stench is overwhelming. Morgan moves left down a small hallway where there are 2 doors. Emily moves to only door in the living room. She clears the closet then goes into the kitchen. Though it is full of dirty dishes and moldy science experiments, it has nothing of interest to the case nor is it the source of the smell. As she starts back into the living room, Morgan appears.

"Gold is dead. Stab wound to the heart. Best guess is 3 days ago. Heat is still on making it hard to tell."

"Ugh."

"Yeah. Already called Ambrose and Mares. They are on their way with the M.E."

The agents step out into the hall to get away from the smell as best they can. Emily leans against the wall, thinking.

"A team?" she suggests out of the blue.

Morgan stops pacing and turns to her. "A team...interesting. And maybe Gold is the reason they lost the storage locker."

"Could be."

"Out of curiosity, the mummification process: could one person do it or would it take at least 2?"

Emily thinks about it a second. "Well, based on what I saw as a kid in Egypt, all the pharaohs had a team of priests prepare them for the afterlife. It is pretty intense but...I still think one person could do it. Especially if he didn't really have a time frame to get it completed. So, no, I don't think two people are necessary."

"But it sure would be helpful, especially when carrying the bins into the storage facility."

Emily nods in agreement. The two silently mull over the case until the detectives arrive to secure the scene. After making plans to come back the next day when all forensic evidence has been gathered (and the remains removed), Emily and Morgan make their way back to the station. Not much is said as both feel an integral part of the case is now lost.

* * *

At 8:30 the team comes back together in the conference room. Hotch looks around, noting the frustration on each agents face. There had been no sense of moving forward today, not even with Emily's suspicion regarding Clay Pritchett. He runs a hand through his hair.

"Okay, turn it off. We've investigated all we can tonight. Until we get word back from the M.E. on how Gold died and until Garcia's search into his background finishes we're at a standstill."

"And meanwhile the mummy-maker might be out hunting," Morgan mutters.

"Perhaps. But maybe not since we've taken this collection. We're assuming he has other collections but he may not. For now we concentrate on the case we have. Tomorrow. For the rest of tonight turn it off. We'll do no one any good if we continue to get frustrated."

Rossi tosses the stack of papers in his hand on the table. "You won't hear me argue. We need more information from the bodies, from the magazines, or from Garcia. Until we have it...well...we're just banging our heads on the wall."

Emily is biting her lip, staring at the reams of paper on the table. Hotch studies her a moment.

"What is it, Prentiss?"

"If Pritchett really is our unsub, could Dr. Stewart be in danger?"

Hotch stiffens as he considers that question.

"I don't think so," Reid answers. All look at him. "She is an expert in an era that obviously intrigues our unsub. It we postulate that Pritchett is that unsub, he would revere her as a type of priestess. She is safe as long as she doesn't turn on him."

"In which case he'll mummify her alive. Great. Feel so much better now," Emily mumbles. "You couldn't have just left it at she is safe?"

Reid shrugs. "Sorry. I guess this is one of those times JJ tells me less is more."

Emily can't help but chuckle. "Definitely, Handsome. Definitely."

"I say for now we don't alert her to our suspicions. If she still thinks Dexter Gold is the suspect she shouldn't say anything to upset her boyfriend," Hotch states. "If we find credible evidence Pritchett is involved, Prentiss, you and Morgan will go find her and encourage her to accept protective custody until the case is closed."

Emily slowly nods. "I guess that's as good as I can do tonight. Thanks, Hotch."

He nods. "Okay, anything else?" No one says anything. "Then let's head to the hotel."

They stand to gather their things. Morgan glances at Emily.

"Work out?"

"Oh hell yeah," she agrees, knowing if she doesn't get some of her aggressions out she'll never get to sleep. "Let me call Jen while I get changed and meet you down in the work out room."

"Sounds good to me."

The group heads out for the evening, hoping they will hit the pavement refreshed and with new ideas in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

When the team arrives at the station the next morning they find the preliminary findings from the M.E. on Dexter Gold. Hotch lifts an eyebrow.

"Sharp, pointed weapon to the heart. Pierced it by going right between 2 ribs," he tells the others.

Reid frowns a moment. "A sharp-pointed object was pushed into the brain via the nasal cavity to help rid the dead of their brain."

Emily grabs the phone. "We need to have the M.E. swab that wound for DNA. If he finds ANY that matches one of the bodies or someone else that's missing it could be a direct tie to our unsub."

While she is making that call, the others start to peel through information Garcia had already sent them that morning. Morgan lifts up a paper.

"Got it! One small link between Gold and Pritchett: they both went to the same military school for a year."

"A year? Would that be long enough to forge a bond that allows them to murder women and mummify the remains?"

"Depends on the school. According to this their files are not electronic so if we want to look into their history we'll have to visit," Morgan reads.

"Reid, you're the fastest reader; Rossi, you can connect with military personnel. Have a good trip," Hotch says.

Morgan grins and hands over the information on the school. Rossi takes it and turns on Reid.

"We have an hour drive. If you drive me crazy with useless facts or scientific theory or any other of a number of strange and unusual subjects your body will be found on the side of the road. Got it, kid?"

Reid's eyes are wide as he stares at the serious countenance of the older agent. He nods rapidly. "Got it. I have a book on tape that- -"

"Reid...don't push it," Hotch cautions.

Reid looks from his boss back to Rossi. "Uh...I guess...the radio will be fine."

"Good thinking," Rossi agrees as he grabs his blazer.

Hotch and Morgan chuckle as the other two leave. Emily hangs up the phone.

"I need to go to the coroner's office." She gets up and pulls off the sketch Snowman had made for her. "A man's body was found last night in a flop house used mostly by junkies. Killing blow was a sharp, pointed object jabbed with precision through 2 ribs into his heart. Sound familiar?"

"Scarily yes."

"He is going to swab that wound for DNA, too," Emily adds.

"Good. Go see if the dead man resembles the sketch. If he does get a picture to your artist and get a positive i.d. Morgan, go to the flop house. There's a good chance his things have already been looted by others at the house but we need to know what he was doing before he died."

"From the sounds of it: a lot of meth. Be careful, Derek," Emily warns.

Morgan gives her a smile. "Careful is my middle name, Princess."

Emily rolls her eyes. Hotch grabs his blazer. "On second thought, I'll go with you, Morgan. Your middle name is anything other than 'careful'."

Emily laughs as the three agents head out to track down this new possible lead.

* * *

Outwardly Emily appears to be waiting patiently for a tech to break away from one of the bodies to let her see the homeless man. Inside she is a three-year old standing in front of a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies being told she can't have one yet. She nearly moans in relief when a tech finally comes over to lead her to the body.

"Right this way, Agent Prentiss."

In a room full of refrigerated doors, the tech slides one open. Emily holds up the sketch near the man's face.

"That's him! Hey, who is he?" the tech asks excitedly.

"I was told he went by David Carmen. Not sure if it's his real name or not but it's a place to start."

The tech sighs. "It's something. So many bodies in here right now that are...are enigmas. It is disheartening."

Emily pats her on the arm. "I know. Hopefully you'll never see anything like this again." She pulls out her phone and takes a couple of pictures of the man's face. "Let your boss know I'll call if we confirm this man is linked to the women."

The tech nods and slides the drawer closed. Emily hurries out of the building, hoping to get a positive identification from Snowman.

* * *

Morgan winces. "First decomp, now...whatever the hell this smell is. I'll need to rinse my sinuses out after this damn case."

Hotch just nods and steps into the room. It is hard to tell if the scattered trash and clothes are from looters and the coroner or if it is how the deceased actually lived.

"This is a nightmare," the senior agent notes.

The two start to shift through the detritus. In a corner filled with fast food trash, Hotch hits pay dirt.

"Morgan," he calls out. The younger man looks over. "Receipt dated 11 months ago for a money order."

Morgan thinks about that a second. "But the facility hadn't been paid for in over 12 months."

"He was a junkie. Maybe he didn't use the order the way it was intended. He uses it to pay off a drug debt, somehow convincing himself that he'll come up with some other way to pay off the locker."

"Only he never does and ends up costing the unsub the locker. Unsub then cuts ties with this guy," Morgan finishes, nodding. "Can see that."

"Let's see if we find any more receipts."

"Okay. And then to the hospital to up our tetanus shots."

Hotch chuckles and goes back to sifting through the trash.

* * *

"Uh oh...I didn't get a warning you were coming," Snowman says as Emily walks into his shop.

She grins. "I promise to only have eyes for you if you can help me out."

He nods, chuckling. "Deal."

Emily pulls out her phone and pulls up the pictures of the John Doe in the morgue. "Do you recognize this man?"

Snowman pulls a pair of reading glasses out of the pocket of his Avengers Tee. Slipping them on he takes the phone and starts to nod.

"Yep! That's him. That's David Carmen." He frowns as he studies the picture a little more, his face paling. "Oh...oh, he's dead, isn't he? Damn, I shouldn't have been so happy to recognize him."

Emily takes the phone back. "Not your fault."

"How...how did he die?"

"He was murdered," Emily tells him.

Snowman lets out a sigh. "Oh, okay. I was worried...maybe exposure and I hadn't helped him."

"You're off the hook for that," Emily tells him. "He was actually in an abandoned house taken over by others in his...condition. He had it better than some but it was still...well, there was nothing you could have done for him."

"You're kind to say that. So was he the killer?"

"No but we think he was working with the killer. If anyone else comes in asking about those comics, please give me a call."

"I will, Agent Prentiss. I will."

"Thank you for your time," Emily says and starts out the door.

"Oh! Wait! I have something for you," he calls her back.

Emily walks back up to the counter, expecting something more about Carmen. Instead Snowman pulls out his sketch pad and flips towards the back.

"Got an idea for a new crime fighter," he tells her and tears out a picture. "See, it's a time set after the fall of the world as we know it. People fight for their families, their towns, whatever they have left. And each group has a special assassin to mete out justice to their enemies. For this particular family, who call themselves a clan after the Scottish term, they have her: 'The Adjudicator'," he hands Emily the picture.

Emily takes it and inhales sharply. The sketch is mostly black and white. It is her, wearing a calf-length well-worn duster, a dark, wide-brimmed hat pulled low on one side, and two gun belts. Her knee length boots both have long knives attached to them. The look in her eyes is feral: you know this woman lives by a code that is black and white. To cross her or her clan is to ask for death. She holds a smoking gun in one hand, the other hand curled around a set of brass knuckles. The only splash of colour comes from a cut across her thigh, dripping dark red blood. The only visible portion of her recently defeated foe is a hand curled in death near her feet, the arm extending out beyond the page.

"Holy shit...," she whispers, awestruck. "I...I don't...wow..."

"It will be called 'The Adjudicator'. Already called a friend of mine to help with the story. Uh, that is if you don't mind?"

Emily slowly looks up. "Are...are you serious?" Snowman nods. "That's fucking COOL!" She looks back at the sketch. "Though, uh, I do have to say you were rather, um, generous in the chest area." The button-up shirt of the image strains to contain the voluptuous chest of the assassin. "I mean...I'm not...well..."

Snowman chuckles. "No, you're not. And I can see you're modest, too. We'll call that a present for the geek set, shall we?"

Emily starts to giggle. "Uh, right. Okay, we can do that." She looks up and meets his eyes. "I'm flattered. I expect a signed copy when it gets published."

He shrugs. "If it gets printed."

" _When_ it gets published," Emily insists. "The comic world has missed you, Snowman. I look forward to seeing the new rise of BS Berns." She offers her hand. "Thank you again for your help with the case and for this artwork."

He shakes her hand. "Thank you for igniting a spark in an old man. Good luck with the case, Agent Prentiss."

"Please...call me the Adjudicator," she offers. Both laugh. "I'm kidding. Call me Emily."

"Emily it is. Be safe, Emily."

"I'll do my best."

Emily leaves and walks out to her SUV, a spring in her step she wouldn't have expected. She gets in and stares at the sketch a little more, her stomach tingling with excitement. She pulls out her phone and snaps a pic, sending it to her wife. Just before she puts the SUV in gear she gets a response back.

" _We sooooo need to talk if that's what you're wearing while I am on bed rest_."

Emily laughs and texts back. " _Will explain later, baby. Just know I could be the inspiration for the next hit comic book series._ "

She waits for the response.

" _Yep...definitely married to a geek. I can feel your giddiness across the phone lines. Love you, my nerdling."_

" _Love you, too, Jen."_

Emily tucks her phone away and heads back to the precinct to see what new leads may have come in while she was gone.

* * *

"General O'Hara, good to meet you. I'm SSA David Rossi and this is Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI."

The general studies Rossi carefully. "Did you serve or opt out back in the day?"

Rossi stares him in the eye. "I served. Have the scars, both physical and mental, to prove it. USMC enlisted."

The general slowly nods. "Good." He looks at Reid. "Something tells me you've been schooling too long to serve."

"Yes, sir," Reid acknowledges. "I also feel there are quite a few physical requirements I wouldn't meet. But I have the utmost respect for all men and women who serve our country and our allies."

"I see." He turns back to Rossi. "So how can I help you two agents?"

Reid immediately knows the general has no respect for him and lets Rossi take the lead. The senior agent gets it, too, though he is more miffed about it than Reid. He puts aside that irritation for the good of the case and gets to the heart of the visit.

"We're hoping you could go into your records to find information on two former students. Dexter Gold and Clayton Zucker."

"Many of our students come from good families. Some boys have shown a disrespect for society born out being spoiled rotten for too long. That said, they are still good boys from good families and by the time they leave they are good men," O'Hara says defensively.

"I'm sure most are. Most likely these two weren't. Zucker was only here a year and ended up having to change his name. Gold was here 2 years, left when Zucker did, and is now dead. We suspect them of partnering up to kill and we need to know about that year they spent in school together. We just need the background to solidify our profile of Zucker, who now goes by Pritchett. It could clear him as easily as it could help us focus on him."

O'Hara studies the two agents for several minutes. Though Reid starts to get fidgety, Rossi maintains his outward calm. Suddenly the general grins.

"Can tell which of you is used to staying still when the enemy is nearby."

"And thank God Reid never had to learn that skill," Rossi states firmly.

Reid swallows. "Sir, I may not have served in the military but I serve the country now in the FBI. Help me protect the public from a serial killer the way you have protected us from enemies of our flag."

O'Hara slowly stands. "What year?" Rossi tells him. "Be right back."

After the general leaves the room, Rossi pats Reid on the back. "Well said, kid."

"I had to say something. His disdain for me was practically written on his face. I had to prove myself." Reid gives Rossi a crooked grin. "I was about to swear to him I'd killed in the line of duty."

Rossi grins. "Good last resort but the tactic you used was better."

"Thanks."

O'Hara walks in a few minutes later with two folders. "The commandant of the academy at that time has passed on. However, the woman that taught English is still on staff. Denise Green has spent her whole career here. She may or may not remember these two delinquents. I will say they were asked to leave and not return. That sort of request is only for the worst offenders or...well...no offense, Dr. Reid, but for gays at the time."

Reid blushes and straightens up as Rossi starts to chuckle. "Uh, why would that offend me?" the doctor asks.

O'Hara stares at him. "You're not a gay?" he asks bluntly.

"No."

"Oh. Well, anyway, back then we were just like the military: if you were gay or even suspected of being gay, you were out."

Reid takes the folders. "So which was the reason these two had to leave?"

"Both. They were troublemakers and gays," O'Hara answers. He gestures to the door. "You can look those over in the outer office. I have a conference call in a few minutes with a major donor."

The agents stand and extend their hands.

"Thank you for your time," Rossi says.

O'Hara shakes Rossi's hand firmly...and barely grips Reid's hand before releasing it. As the agents get into the outer office, Reid looks at Rossi.

"I don't think he believed I'm straight."

"Nope. And he looked like he'd 'catch gay' if he shook your hand properly. What a numbnut."

Reid chuckles and agrees. Each takes a folder and starts to read up on their two suspects before going to speak to Ms. Green.

* * *

Hotch and Morgan finally get back to the station just after Emily arrives. Morgan sees the large envelope by Emily's computer.

"Is that a report from the M.E.?" he asks as he reaches for it.

Emily, who had been updating a murder board, spins around, her cheeks bright red. "NO!"

Morgan stops in the middle of opening the flap. He stares at his best friend, seeing the flush of embarrassment.

"Emily Elizabeth Prentiss, what is in this envelope?" he pesters.

"Nothing. I mean, something. I mean...it's not case related and I just needed to keep it safe so I borrowed an envelope. It's nothing, Derek. Really."

Morgan glances over at Hotch. "You've been a profiler longer than me, Hotch: you picking up on embarrassment and deceit, too?"

Hotch grins. "Definitely."

Emily leans on the table. "Please, please do not open that envelope. Please," she pleads.

"You don't know how hard it is for me to put this down, partner," Morgan says as he lays the envelope back down.

Emily breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"I guess I'll just have to settle for the text of the picture instead of the original," he adds.

Emily's face flares again. "You...what...?"

Hotch holds up his phone. "I think you just meant to send it to JJ but you must have hit your quick text prompt for all of us."

Emily drops into a chair and buries her face in her hands. "Oh. My. God!"

"Don't be embarrassed, Em. Not all of us get a comic named after us," Morgan points out.

"Or a free boob job," Hotch adds with uncharacteristic amusement.

"I want a hole to open up and swallow me. Please, please, let a hole open up and swallow me now," Emily mumbles into her hands.

Morgan puts the envelope down and walks around to his best friend. "Emily, all kidding aside, it is very cool. I think you'd make a hell of a comic book hero." He squeezes her shoulders. "And Henry will think it is the most awesome thing ever; even better than Batman."

Emily shakes her head. "Oh, hell no! You saw the shirt, Derek. No way in hell Henry is ever reading that comic if it is ever published."

Morgan chuckles. "Good point."

"So, your foray into the comic world aside, how did you visit with Snowman go?" Hotch asks.

Emily takes a deep breath and tries to will the last of her chagrin aside. "He confirmed the dead man is the man he knew as David Carmen. I already have Garcia trying to find him and the M.E.'s office gladly sent his fingerprints to us to help speed her search. Unless the prints hit, though, it may be hard to find him since we don't even know if that's his real name."

"So where do we stand right now?" Hotch asks.

"We're waiting again. We do have a lot of backgrounds on the identified women, including 4 i.d.'ed this morning."

Hotch sits down and grabs a file off the stack he had left earlier. "Then let's get back to victimology. Somewhere we have to find the clue that will lead us to the correct unsub."

Emily and Morgan nod and get right back to work trying to figure out how their victims crossed paths with the unsub.

* * *

"Those boys were not gay. Just...different."

"Different how?" Rossi presses.

Denise Green thinks a moment. "Well, they didn't want to be here and they didn't come from military families. Those two things alone made them stand out. Gold, he was a follower and there was no way this academy was going to make him a leader. Zucker...he was cruel. Anytime he had power over anyone that cadet ended up hurt."

"Physically?" Reid confirms.

"Yes. After the third time he hurt someone they stopped giving him chances to lead. But even as a follower he could find the weakest of the bunch and terrorize him. Only one he never hurt in some way was Gold, most likely because Gold hung on every word Zucker said. Gold even took a few punishments by claiming he did things we all knew Zucker had done."

Rossi nods. "A typical Alpha-Omega relationship."

Green nods. "Definitely."

Reid frowns. "Mrs. Green, Pritchett...rather, Zucker and Gold were here a long time ago. Can I ask why you remember them so well?"

Green sighs. "You never forget your best students or your worst." She crosses her arms, rubbing her arms in a protective, comforting manner. She looks to the ground, shame on her face. "Those boys cornered me in my old classroom one day. No one was around as far as we knew. Zucker had Gold lock the door. I know...I knew what they had planned and I was terrified. Just before Zucker grabbed me one of my colleagues knocked on the door. The boys quickly left." She looks up. "They never actually touched me so I couldn't even charge them with anything officially."

"Did they threaten you verbally?" Reid asks.

"No. Only words spoken were Zucker telling Gold to lock the door. I kept staring into his eyes. They were...cold, dead...like a shark's eyes. No emotion just...just a predator's determined glint. And he...he had an erection. I was going to be raped, Agent Reid. And...and maybe killed, too. I went to the commandant and told him. Thank God he believed me. He transferred them from my class and always made sure some of the most trusted senior cadets were always around so I was never alone. I was never so happy to see two students leave this school."

Rossi nods sympathetically. "I imagine not. Did you ever see them again?"

"No. And trust me: for a long time I watched for them. I always felt they wanted a chance to finish what they started."

"Do you think Gold would have raped you, too?" Reid asks.

"If Zucker told him to do it, yes. On his own?" She thinks a second. "On his own, no I don't think he would have. But Zucker would have wanted Gold to be equally culpable. And I am sure when they...finished they would have killed me. There was no way they could have left me alive. And...and I think Zucker would have enjoyed the killing more than the sex. Again...just something about his eyes."

"You had good instincts. And thankfully you have a good memory," Rossi praises her. "This is a long shot, but did they ever contact you after they left?"

Green shakes her head. "No. If they had...I'm not sure what I would have done."

Rossi nods. "Understandable." He hands her a card. "If you think of anything else about either man, please give us a call. We appreciate your time."

Green tucks the card in her pocket. "I wish I could tell you more. I do ask...if you can...don't tell them I said anything about them. I'd rather they not be reminded of me."

Rossi nods. "Well, Gold is dead so you don't have to worry about him. And Zucker will not find out from us that we spoke today."

"Thank you, Agent Rossi."

The agents make their way back to their SUV. Reid is putting together puzzle pieces in his head and Rossi lets the speculation continue as he pulls out his phone.

"Emily texted us. She must found out something...whoa..." he trails off.

Reid glances over. "What's wrong?"

"Uh...well, Emily has an admirer, I guess."

Reid looks confused as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. His eyes widen when he sees the picture Emily had sent out by accident. He quickly turns off his messages and stares out the window.

"I soooo didn't need to see that," he mutters.

"Me, either," Rossi agrees. He puts the SUV in gear. "How about we promise never to bring it up with her?"

"Since I think she or JJ might kill me for the thought I had about 'The Adjudicator' I am happy to pretend we saw nothing."

"Definitely safer that way," Rossi agrees.

* * *

When Rossi and Reid get back to the station, their studious avoidance of looking at Emily tells her all she needs to know. She blushes again.

"I had so fucking hoped that you all were in a bad signal area and that text got lost forever," she mutters.

"Sorry, Emily," Reid says apologetically.

Emily takes the folder and hands it to him. "I had planned to show this to you anyway. In private but, well, Reid, take a look at the signature."

Reid opens the envelope and carefully slides the picture out. The other men crowd in to see the full size drawing. Morgan shakes his head.

"Emily, all kidding aside, this is an amazing portrait. You can practically feel the danger emanating off the page. The artist is incredible."

Emily smiles. "Yes, he is."

Reid slowly looks up, astonishment in his eyes. "Are you...serious? Is it really him?" Emily grins and nods her head. "You're telling me...you met B.S. Berns at the comic book store? What the hell was he doing there?"

"Running it," she says with amusement.

Reid's eyes widen. "You mean...Snowman is B.S. Berns? Seriously?"

"Seriously," she confirms.

Reid looks back down. "He's still so talented. Why did he stop creating books?"

Emily explains why he stopped writing. "For some reason seeing me made him come up with a new anti-hero."

"Whoa...if he starts to publish again you'll be invited to ALL the Comic Cons!" he says enviously.

Emily chuckles. "Maybe. You can be my date as Jen will probably not want to go."

"And we'll hold down the fort while you two geek out in ways we don't even want to imagine," Rossi offers as he goes to get settled at the table.

The others chuckle. Reid puts the sketch back in the envelope and hands it back to Emily. She tucks it away as Hotch looks at Rossi.

"So, what did you learn at the school?"

Rossi and Reid run down the things they had learned about the two suspects. By the time they are finished all are convinced that Pritchett nee Zucker and Gold are a team capable of murder. But are they the ones behind the mummies?


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Tee hee hee...glad y'all liked The Adjudicator making an appearance in this series. I felt very "Stephen King" when I did that. And for anyone that hasn't** **read a King novel, almost all of his novels have flashes to other books he has written. And he makes it work seamlessly. I could only hope to pay slight homage to the master!**

* * *

The team spends the entire next morning mapping out the lives of the victims that had been identified. Just when they start to think they are getting nowhere, Garcia calls.

"Gold had a storage locker!" she announces excitedly.

"How'd we miss that?" Hotch asks in frustration.

"It's in his mothers' name and he's been paying for it with a reloadable Visa card, most likely to keep it from showing up in his personal finances."

"Then how'd you find it, Baby Girl?" Morgan asks.

"I saw that he had a $50 charge to his debit card each month at Walmart. A little, um, investigating and I determined it was for the gift card. I went back to the list from the facilities and found one where the charge for the same size locker as the one we're already looking into is $49.95. In looking into that facilities system, I found Gold's mothers' name," she tells them.

"Well done. And can I assume we've been sent that address?" Hotch asks.

"But of course," she confirms.

"Emily, Morgan, go find Ambrose and Mares. We need a warrant to search a dead man's locker before his partner has time to clean it out."

"Gold's been dead at least 4 days now. There's a good chance we missed out already," Morgan points out.

"We won't know until we check. Go. Rossi, Reid, we need to get into Gold's house. Check with the crime scene techs and see if they are finished in Gold's house. We need to get in there and find out what and who he knows."

Morgan and Emily hurry out to find the detectives to get the warrant. Rossi steps out to call the crime scene supervisor. Hotch leans on the table.

"Garcia, in the backgrounds of the women we've identified so far, is there any evidence that they somehow could have known either of our suspects?"

"Nothing I can find, sir."

"Okay, in cross-checking them, are you seeing anyone in their lives show up for several of them? Other than their pimps?"

"No, sir. Except, maybe someone in the jails."

Hotch slowly nods. "Good idea. Let's start looking for officers on duty for all these women."

"Sir, that will be a very complicated search. If we're sure Pritchett and Gold were our unsubs why are we searching others?"

"Because we don't have definitive proof Pritchett is our man or that Gold had anything to do with all of this. We can't afford to get tunnel vision and end up with more women killed."

Garcia sighs. "Right. Good point. I'll get that search started and let you know any potential hits."

"Thanks, Garcia."

He hangs up and sighs, grabbing yet another background on one of the women.

"What if he's moved on?" Reid asks in the silence.

"Not an option I am willing to consider. Keep working," Hotch orders.

Reid just nods and goes back to his folder while he awaits Rossi's return.

* * *

Rossi pinches the bridge of his nose. "What the hell do you mean you have only just started at Gold's house?"

"It reeked. We wanted to let it air out a little before we started to collect evidence so we could stay in longer. Give us a break! He'd been rotting in there for 4 days!"

"You ignorant..." Rossi's voice trails off, knowing insulting the man will only make things worse. "Time is of the essence in seeing if this guy has anything to do with the deaths of over 30 women. I'll be there in 10 minutes with another FBI agent to look over the scene."

"But you could disturb evidence," the man protests.

"Then you best be sure you have things marked appropriately so that doesn't happen," Rossi suggests sarcastically as he hangs up his phone. Muttering a few choice words in Italian he goes back into the conference room. "Hotch, idiots from CSI are just starting to process Gold's house?"

"What?! Why the fucking wait?"

"They scooped the body and the mattress and then wanted to let the house air out so it would be easier to stay in there longer looking for other evidence."

"Son of a bitch," Hotch grumbles.

"To say the least," Rossi agrees. He looks at Reid. "I told them we'd be there in 10 minutes. We'll be careful but we need to get a look at this guys' life not just the records Garcia can dig up."

Reid nods and stands. "We'll use booties if we need to so we don't risk tracking in anything to screw up any trace by tracking things inside."

Hotch nods. "Good idea. And try not to beat the techs. They've never seen anything like this before, Dave, and they thought they were doing the right thing by making sure none would leave too soon due to the smell."

"Right. Still..." Rossi trails off, just shaking his head.

Reid follows the older agent out the door. Hotch sighs and grabs yet another folder of background information.

* * *

It takes just over an hour to get the warrant for Gold's locker. Morgan takes a pair of bolt cutters out of the back of the Bureau SUV and stands ready while the owner of the facility reads and signs the warrant. As soon as the pen leaves the paper, Morgan steps forward and cuts off the lock. Using gloves he removes it and drops it into an evidence bag Mares is holding.

Morgan looks at the others. "Not sure what I want to see when I open this," he admits.

"I second that, buddy," Emily mutters.

Ambrose and Morgan each grab a handle on the roll up door and start it up. From her vantage point, Emily first sees nothing but cement. Then she sees the first stack of tubs. Before she can say the words the door is up and the four LEOs are staring at 20 bins stacked 2 high on one side of the locker and 4 lined up in a row on the other. Emily sighs.

"Son of a bitch," Ambrose breathes out.

Morgan pulls out his phone as Emily pulls on a pair of gloves and moves to the closest stack of 2 bins. Saying a prayer in her head, she opens the top bin. She shudders as she sees the remains of a woman, fully clothed and mummified inside. She slowly turns and looks at Morgan, giving him a somber nod.

"Hotch, Prentiss just confirmed it. We have another 20 kills by this bastard. Gold was definitely involved." He listens a moment then hangs up. "Let's get pics. Hotch is calling the coroner."

Mares nods. "Ambrose is calling for CSI's but, to be honest, they are already working Gold's place and some of the apartments of the dead women. Our coroner's office is overwhelmed, too. We just...we're not a small town but we're not New York either, you know?"

Morgan nods. "Understood. See if the State police can help. If you can't get state help in some way we can call in techs from the FBI. Hotch can brief your captain and the M.E. on how to do that officially if needed."

"Thanks." Mares turns and looks back at the bins. "How the hell has he killed so many here and we don't know? We should have missing person's files out the ass!"

"The majority of prostitutes in the first locker weren't reported missing. Just the nature of their life, unfortunately," Morgan points out. "If these prove to be low risk victims we will most likely be looking at women from beyond Charlotte."

"Son of a bitch," Mares mutters.

Morgan nods. "That's the consensus so far."

Emily walks over and opens the first of the single stacked bins. "Porn," she calls out to no ones' surprise. She opens the second. "More porn." The third. "More porn." And the fourth. "Holy shit...videos." She carefully reaches in so she doesn't disturb their order. She turns them to read the label, frowning at the words. "Handwritten labels on them. Each just one word and a date, no year just month and day."

"Garcia can punch those dates in to see if they match anything on missing person's reports," Morgan notes.

Emily nods and carefully slips them back in.

"Prentiss, what was the word?" Morgan asks, seeing the disgust in his partner's eyes.

Emily stands, wiping her hands automatically even though she is wearing gloves. Her stomach turns. "Whore," she answers.

"And they all said that?" Morgan presses.

Emily turns and glares at him. "Think I'm too stupid to read, Morgan? Yes they all said 'Whore' on them. Capital 'W' in case you need more info you think I'm too stupid to note."

Morgan stops himself before snapping back. They were all frustrated and his question had pushed a button. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"Sorry, Emily," he says sincerely. "We're all on edge. I didn't mean to question your ability to evaluate evidence."

Emily just nods, knowing she wouldn't have snapped if the case were going better. She turns and looks at the bins that most like have the remains of 20 women. "When you call Garcia, have her start with missing person's reports from cities where Pritchett and Gold used to live."

"And any surrounding cities," Morgan agrees as he dials up the Oracle of Quantico. "Garcia, this locker you found is another cache of bodies."

"I was really hoping it held his childhood stuffed animals," she says sadly.

"I know, Baby Girl. Start searching previous cities for Gold and Pritchett to look for women that went missing. Be ready to start matching them as the coroner starts identifying these bodies."

"I will. Can I go on record saying this really, really sucks?"

Morgan manages a smile. "Definitely."

"Good. This really, really sucks," she states and hangs up.

Morgan is leaning against the SUV when Emily walks over. She leans up beside him.

"Sorry I bit your head off," she apologizes.

"Forgiven." They stand in silence a moment. "Are we closer? Do these women help us at all?"

Emily sighs and shrugs. "No idea. The woman I looked at seemed to be wearing nicer clothes than the ones in the other locker. Could be the theory of separate lockers for high risk victims is holding true. Of course, it could also be that this is Gold's collection and has nothing to do with the other storage unit."

Morgan frowns. "Hadn't considered that. And if he is the Omega, it would explain why he has fewer kills. He's only allowed to kill when his Alpha lets him."

Emily nods. "More questions, more victims, nothing to help us stick it to the one living suspect. Is he really this good?"

Morgan shrugs. "So far...he seems to be."

"I was hoping you weren't going to say that."

The two watch Ambrose and Mares pace as they all await a coroner's team arrival so the bodies can start being cataloged and removed.

* * *

Reid and Rossi wait until prints have been taken from the side table and coffee table in front of the TV before starting to go through Gold's things. It is obvious he spends a lot of time sitting in the recliner as his bills, checkbook and adult reading material are all right there.

"This magazine is extremely graphic in its violence against women," Rossi notes.

"Not surprising," Reid says as he peruses the titles of the many DVD's on the shelves. "Curious. None of these are pornographic." He slides one off the shelf and opens it up to see it really is the listed movie. He puts it back and looks at the cabinet under the TV. "Of course..." he mumbles as he walks over and opens it up. "Rossi, there's nothing here, either."

Rossi glances up. "There is no way this guy doesn't have porn stashed in here somewhere. Check all the movie cases."

Reid nods and goes back to the wall. He opens over 100 DVD cases but not a single one contains the adult entertainment they are sure Gold would have had considering his magazines. Rossi had carefully checked the tables and the chair to make sure there were no hidden compartments. When the agents finish they glance towards the bedroom, where techs still work.

"Has to be in there," Rossi states.

"Unless...what if his killer took them? What if there were snuff films in his collection? What if they filmed the kills and maybe even the mummification? If the partner is the one that killed him there is no way he would leave that evidence behind," Reid says excitedly.

Rossi nods. "I agree. And that helps us how?"

Reid starts to answer then stops. He just shrugs. "No idea. I think I'm starting to hope for some sort of magical piece of evidence to help us find all the victims and put the killers in jail."

Rossi grins. "We've all been there, kid." He pauses as his phone rings. "Yes, Morgan?" He stiffens as he listens. "Damn. Okay, we're waiting to get into his bedroom. So far nothing to show us who his killer is or if he has a partner. Right now he stands alone as our killer." He listens some more. "Right. We'll be in touch." Rossi disconnects and stares at his phone as if it will ring and give him different news.

"More bodies?" Reid guesses.

"Yes. And movies titled 'Whore' with months and days listed on them."

Reid's stomach takes a turn. "Damn." He takes a deep breath. "Well, we know there is no way he would keep his only copies in that locker. They are either here or his killer took them."

Rossi nods as they go back to waiting for the techs to finish in the bedroom.

* * *

Morgan extends his hand to Duncan MacLeod. "Sorry to have to see you like this again, man."

MacLeod shakes the hand. "Me, too. Only 20 this time." He pauses and winces. "And why that is better I honestly don't know. Still 20 too many."

"I agree with that."

"Can I ask what Agent Prentiss is doing?"

They look and see Emily staring into the first box she had opened. With two fingers she is manipulating something inside.

"She's taking pictures of the body to show it before it was adjusted. She's trying to see a tag on the clothes so we can run a manufacturer check. Determining the cost will help us start to narrow in on the victimology for this woman. Maybe all of them," Morgan explains.

"Ah, okay. I'll need her to send me her copies of the picture to go with my pics and the report," MacLeod tells him.

"I know. She will."

"Okay. And Dr. Jethlow told me to tell you he was able to get some help from Raleigh and Wilmington. If they are still having trouble staying ahead in the morgue he'll accept help from the FBI. His big worry is too many helpers and not enough tables."

"Good point. Still, any forensics he wants run faster he can reach out to our labs."

"He will be doing that for sure. And all prints are going directly to your analyst since she's already proven a hell of a lot faster than us," he concedes with a grin.

Morgan chuckles. "We don't call her our goddess for nothing." He looks beyond MacLeod as Emily walks up. "Able to see anything?"

"Yeah. Mid-level brand. Not too fancy, not too cheap but definitely not what a prostitute would be wearing to attract a John and not something a drug addict would wear." She looks at the coroner's assistant. "Welcome back to Hell, Highlander."

MacLeod smiles. "Gee. Thanks. Well, let me get at it. For better or worse, we now have a questionnaire to fill out to make this a little quicker."

The agents watch as he walks on into the newest mummy's tomb. Emily runs a hand through her hair.

"What if...if I'm wrong, Morgan? It was just a hunch that Pritchett knew something. What if...what if we're circling him and Gold and- -"

Morgan steps in front of her and stares into her eyes. "Hey. Stop that. You have good instincts, Prentiss and everything we're finding out about Pritchett and Gold is starting to click. My guess is we'll find out that Pritchett is the one that made Gold get into Stewart's courses. The alpha was probably impressed by her and Gold fed on that until it bordered on stalking. Pritchett most likely has manipulated both of them and Stewart doesn't even know it yet."

"And hopefully that ignorance keeps her safe. But what if it doesn't? What if he goes after her?"

Morgan thinks a second. "He won't. He doesn't even know he's in our sights."

"Right. Okay. Back to my original worry: what if he shouldn't be?"

"Hotch is having Garcia follow some other potential avenues where the victims we know about could have crossed paths with the killer: jails, bail bond companies, etc. We are not staring at these two without investigating all angles fully." He places his hands on her shoulders. "No one in these lockers is your fault, Emily. And no one that may be killed before we zero in on this guy or these guys is your fault for having us look at Pritchett. You hear me?"

Emily takes a deep breath and pats his hands. "Keep telling me that?"

"As often as you need me to," he promises.

Emily nods and Morgan turns back so they can continue to watch the bodies being cataloged and wait for their chance to start profiling this new set of victims.

* * *

It is nearly 4 p.m. before Rossi and Reid get a shot at the bedroom that was the death scene for Dexter Gold. Rossi moves right to the closet as Reid moves to the dresser. Rossi opens the door and stares in shock at what he sees. Every item is hung up according to type, then by colour, the shirts further separated between t-shirt, polo, button down. Sweatshirts are hung in groups with sleeves and without.

"OCD...holy crap...no way both are OCD," Rossi mutters to himself.

In the dresser Reid finds a similar pattern of organization. The top drawer is all socks, neatly paired and then placed by size, length, colour. Then next drawer is underwear, again neatly folded and separated by colour; all are briefs. Third drawer looks to be more tees but something catches Reid's eye. He lifts up 2 shirts to find photo envelopes. Reid frowns, not having expected this. He pulls out the rest of the shirts then reaches for the first envelope, dated 5 years ago. He opens it and winces as he sees a woman on her knees, a masked man behind her. She is obviously screaming.

"Rossi...you need to see this," he says somberly.

Rossi puts back the box of tennis shoes he'd been looking at and walks over to Reid. His stomach sours as Reid flips through the photos documenting a woman being tortured.

"Madre di Dio," he whispers.

"This is from 5 years ago. She's either one of the prostitutes or one of the new ones Morgan and Prentiss found." He turns back to the drawer. "There are 76 envelopes here Rossi. Are there 76 victims?"

"I...I don't know, kid. Could be that some women have more than one envelope. Most likely the number of photos taken would correspond to how much she responded to their actions. The more she screamed and begged the more they would have gotten off on her pain, hence, the more pictures taken," Rossi suggests.

"Sadly, I concur with that statement. And we'll have to go through every damn one of these to find victim faces for Garcia to run and in case either unsub appears in them. At least we know now there are definitely 2 unsubs."

"Camera angle followed the participants," Rossi states as he thinks about what he had seen. "Shit. Not sure if that's good or not. What's in the last drawer?"

Reid carefully puts the photo envelope back and slides the drawer closed. "I'm not sure I really want to know," he admits as he slides open the last drawer. Unlike the others, the contents of this one are in complete disarray. "Strange..."

Dirty rags, sponges, an ice pick, a bloody t-shirt, and a half-bottle of olive oil. Everything is just dumped in the drawer. Both agents look around the room and then at each other.

"No way," Reid says. "There is no way he put these items in here. His OCD would not have allowed them to be so...so scattered. It would have physically hurt him for them to be in this state."

Rossi nods. "I agree. Which tells me he was killed by his partner."

"Why didn't the partner take the photos?"

"I think we'll find the photos will be all about the women Morgan and Prentiss found. The other unsub wants us to find the connection between Gold and that facility and assume he is the one that killed the other women, too. My guess is, based on this guy's OCD, was this drawer would have held pictures from the other storage locker. He'd have had them cataloged and stored just like the third drawer."

"But why not leave those, too? More evidence against Gold means we could stop looking for a partner."

Rossi chews his lip a moment. "Because the unsub needs the proof of what he's done. We've taken his trophies, his magazines, everything. If Gold had videos, the unsub took those and these photos to help him live his kills over and over."

Reid slowly slides the third drawer out once more. "But leaving these was risky. Not to mention, didn't you say there was a tub of videos in the newest locker? The unsub would have needed..." he trails off then grins. "The unsub didn't know about the tub of videos! I bet Gold put those in there after the news hit about the other locker. He knew his partner would start cutting ties and needed leverage." Reid hurries out of the room and goes to a trash can by the TV. He reaches in and lifts up a torn package for Rossi to see. "A new lock. What do you want to bet this matches what Morgan cut off?"

Rossi grins. "Not going to take that bet. Bag it as evidence."

Reid nods and does so. The agents then secure the photos and head to the precinct so they can start to go through all 76 envelopes in hopes of maybe catching a picture of Gold's partner.

* * *

After MacLeod and his team finish cataloging the first 5 bodies, Emily and Morgan move to them to study them a little closer. Emily immediately tries to get an idea of what the clothes had looked like prior to mixing with the oils and wine used in the mummification process. Like the first woman, these were all nice clothes: slacks, blouses, skirts. Not what a prostitute would wear.

"Prentiss, any idea about year for these clothes?"

Emily shakes her head. "Afraid not. Once we can see all the labels we may be able to check with the manufacturers."

Morgan nods and continues to check out the woman in tub #4. He frowns and leans in a little closer. "Earrings...anyone remember any other bodies wearing earrings?" he calls out. Prentiss and the M.E.'s crew all shake their heads. "Interesting. Prostitutes doll up completely, including earrings."

"Trophies?" Emily suggests.

"Possibly. But what about the organs? Aren't they trophies?"

Emily shrugs, "Who knows? Maybe they are just trash and disposed of."

"You really believe that?"

Emily thinks a moment then sighs. "No. Anyone that takes the care to do all this," she gestures to the boxes, meaning the mummification of so many, "would not dispose of the organs. I think he'd be more into the canopic jar-era of Egyptian ritual. That means somewhere, most likely where he goes through the process, we'll find his jars."

Morgan nods, hating that Emily had confirmed what he had been thinking. This unsub, whoever he is, is sicker than they had ever dared imagine.

It takes 2 hours to do the initial cataloging of the bodies. Though she didn't know prices of the fashions, Emily was able to tell subtle changes in styles going back 5 years. She is staring at the tub listed as #1, which is believed to have been the last victim. Morgan studies his partner a moment.

"What is it, Prentiss?"

"Her clothes...we'll know more once we can get manufacturer info but...but I'd say it's over a year old. I mean, I know people don't wear things once and toss them, and a lot of women don't automatically follow fashion trends but it's strange that nothing she owns looks recent."

"So, maybe it's been a while since she was killed."

"Maybe..." Emily mumbles. A second later she whips out her phone. "Garcia, have you been sent the information on the clothes the bodies in the first storage unit were wearing?"

"Yep. It's part of all the files the M.E. sent."

"Good. Pull up the information on the three victims that were considered to be the most recent deaths."

"Okay." Garcia types a bit. "Alright, what do I do with it?"

"I need you to get the contact information to me. I need to know how old those threads are," she answers.

"Alrighty. I'll get it to you as soon as I have it."

"Thanks, Garcia." Emily hangs up and looks at Morgan. "So, anything else we can do here?"

He shakes his head. "I don't think so. CSI techs will need to check the 4 accessory tubs for prints and maybe some genetic material before we can really dive into them."

"Okay. I want to go see Dr. Stewart again. I want to tell her about Gold and see if she's willing to share any more about him now that he's not around to stalk her."

Morgan agrees that is a good idea. They let MacLeod know they are leaving then get in their SUV for the drive to campus. As they are driving Morgan glances at his partner.

"What's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?" Emily asks.

"You look...guilty for some reason."

Emily bites her lip as she watches the scenery pass by. She finally takes a deep breath and stares down at her hands.

"I want to be at home with Jen, Derek. And I'm wondering if...if I really heard Pritchett answer strangely or if I just wanted to because he got defensive about his customers." She turns and looks at his partner. "What if we're only looking at him because my mind is still up in Virginia?"

"No chance. Emily, I know you want to be with your wife. I remember JJ wanting the same thing. But that doesn't change your experience or your instincts. Pritchett did something to put him on your radar. Maybe he was just being an ass, maybe he's involved. Either way, we're all investigating this case fully and completely. If he's innocent, we'll clear him. If he's guilty, we'll bust his ass. Follow the facts."

Emily considers that a moment then nods. "Right. The facts. Thanks for putting up with my doubts this case. I can't promise this is the last time I'll have them."

Morgan smiles. "Then I will have to turn into my Baby Girl and be your own personal happy little ray of sunshine and good will."

Emily bursts out laughing, her mind immediately picturing Morgan in some of Garcia's more outlandish outfits. She nods. "Okay. But I get to choose what you wear as a ray of sunshine."

Morgan laughs. "Oh hell no!"

The two laugh, each imagining various scenarios in their heads. Emily reaches over and pats his leg.

"Thanks, Derek."

"Anytime, Emily. Anytime."

* * *

Morgan pulls up outside of the home Nicole Stewart shares with her boyfriend, Clay Pritchett. Emily reaches out and places a hand on Morgan's arm.

"Pritchett is home."

Morgan nods. "Thought that would be his car," he notes, staring at the panel van. "Good for transporting comics and other memorabilia for his store. Or bodies for his collection."

Emily gives her partner a wry smile. "Glad he's prudent with his expenses."

Morgan chuckles. "Right. Twisted, woman. Very twisted."

"Let's head back to the precinct. We can talk to her tomorrow at the university."

Morgan nods and puts the SUV back in gear. So far the professor had not been a target of the unsub. They can only hope that holds true tonight if Pritchett really is one of the killers.


	7. Chapter 7

Hotch leans back and rubs his eyes as he tries to figure out what, if anything, he has missed in his statement for the press. They need help. Too many women apparently from two different threat levels. Someone is missing the 20 women whose bodies are currently being removed from a storage unit and taken to the morgue.

"But where are they missing you? Where the hell are you ladies from?" he mutters. Then he sighs. "And what sort of hell did you go through before you died?"

He sits forward again and stares at the words on the screen but they are starting to swim. He reaches up and hits the command to save the file to a thumb drive before he starts to third or fourth guess himself. He grabs the drive and goes out to plug into a precinct computer to print out his statement. He has just hit the command when a cup of coffee appears beside his hand. He looks up and forces a smile to his face.

"I'll have to buy you something pretty."

Emily grins. "That's my line, Bossman. A simple 10% raise will be thanks enough."

Hotch actually chuckles as Emily winks and heads on to the conference center. The unit chief walks over and pulls his statement off the printer. He reads it over once more and decides it is the best he can do right now.

"If I look as bad as you the locals will start to think we're zombies," Morgan says as he walks over.

"We might be." Hotch lets a breath out slowly. "There's a pile of call-ins in the Conference room. Family members of women missing all up and down the east coast have started calling, begging for information. By tomorrow, they will start showing up, wondering if their loved one is one of the women we have found so far."

"Damn."

"Yeah. I have a press briefing in about 30 minutes. It's not going to do much good."

"I know. But it's all we can do. What are your thoughts on the storage unit?"

Hotch shrugs. "Honestly, I haven't had a chance to think much about it."

Morgan studies his boss a moment. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I took a call. Woman's daughter has been missing 8 years. Her husband died of a broken heart. Her grandkids don't even remember their mother."

"Fuck, Hotch. You just let her vent, didn't you?"

"Could you have hung up on her?" Hotch challenges.

Morgan starts to say yes then stops. He runs a hand over his head and puts himself in Hotch's shoes. He slowly shakes his head. "No...No, I couldn't have. Sorry, Hotch."

Hotch shrugs. "It's just...the job. And a part of the job that sucks."

"Want me to give the statement?" Morgan offers.

Hotch shakes his head. "No, I got it. Go check on the reports in from the medical examiner and crime techs. Rossi and Reid are on their way back with 70 or more packets of photos. We need to go through them all tonight and get any with recognizable faces to Garcia for photo recognition searches."

"Got it."

Hotch heads off to the bathroom to wash his face and straighten his hair. It would not give the public confidence to see a bedraggled FBI agent on the news. They needed to see strength, determination, and a public protector.

And when he steps in front of the cameras that is _exactly_ what they see.

* * *

Emily drops a tip sheet into the folder marked, "Follow up needed." She sighs as an officer walks in and places another stack on the table. She shakes her head.

"I think Hotch's statement that we will contact families if we find word of their loved ones fell on deaf ears. Nearly everything I have is someone trying to find out if we found their lost loved one instead of calling us with actual information we can use to help find answers."

Rossi glances up at her. "Wanna trade?"

Emily looks at the stack of photos he and Morgan are going through. A shiver crawls up her spine as she remembers the pictures she had combed through during the Long Island case. She shakes her head.

"Not on your life, Rossi," she replies.

He gives her a half grin, guessing where her mind had taken her. "Didn't think so, kid."

Emily looks down at her watch. It is nearly 11 p.m. She had originally planned to call her wife when she got back to the hotel but now she knows the team will not be heading out any time soon. She stands and grabs her personal phone out of her briefcase.

"Back in a few," she says as she makes her way to the door.

"Tell JJ we miss her. Hotch especially," Reid says.

Emily grins at the genius. "I'm sure she already knows."

Emily finds an interrogation room not in use and closes the door. She sits down at the table and props her feet up on it, sighing happily at this small bit of relief. She hits her wife's number and hopes JJ hasn't fallen asleep.

"Em! Hi! I thought you wouldn't get a chance to call."

Emily smiles, something settling within her. "I nearly lost track of time. So many files from the scientists, photos found at the dead suspects house, and people all over the country praying for a miracle and calling us to see if we found their sister, mother, wife, daughter."

"Damn, baby," JJ says quietly, hating the stress she hears in Emily's voice.

"Yeah. Just another fun day at the BAU. In a storage unit today we even found a bunch of homemade videos. I have a bad feeling the photos aren't the only souvenirs the unsubs collected to relive their kills." The brunette runs a hand over her face. "But forget that shit for now. How are you and the nesters doing?"

JJ sighs, accepting the change of topic because she knows how much her wife needs to turn the case off for a while. "So far so good. They are all about the chocolate covered peanut butter pickles, though. Part of me is grossed out but my mouth literally waters when I think about them!"

Emily chuckles. "Thanks for giving me a good reason to be on the road, sweetheart."

JJ smiles. "Glad we could help. Now, if you're asking if they are trying to escape, the answer is no. A few Braxton-Hicks moments but nothing more than that. I do think they had a bit of a scuffle earlier as they were both so active all I could think is they were acting like Henry and Rocky when they annoy each other."

Emily laughs out loud. "Oh, geez...that would suck if they were born. Inside you that has to be crazy painful."

"Oh, it is. Trust me," JJ confirms. "But they eventually settled. Mom said maybe they were trying to line up for a natural birth because one wants to be the older sibling."

Emily's stomach trips. "Uh...natural? I thought you were going to schedule a C-Section?"

JJ giggles. "I am, sweetheart. But Luc and Maddy don't know that."

"Ah. Good point," Emily agrees with a grin. She thinks about her wife and kids a moment then sighs.

"What was that sigh for?" JJ asks.

"I just...feel like I have missed so much time with you and them. I wanted to spend every step with you and- -"

"And you have spent as many days as you could with us, sweetheart. The job is the job. You know that. Hell, Emily, I think I missed a little time with you when I was in Afghanistan."

Emily shrugs. "I know. I just...I guess..."

"Have you ever asked him?" JJ interjects.

Emily frowns in confusion. "Asked who what?"

"You're not your father, Emily. But have you ever asked him how much time he spent with your mother when she was pregnant?"

Emily bites her lip a moment, partly amazed that JJ has immediately hit the heart of the matter; partly scared that if she asks she'll find out he was a better spouse than she feels she has been.

"Emily?" JJ presses gently.

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose. "I shouldn't be surprised you hit the heart of my fears so directly."

"Nope. You're an open comic book."

Emily chuckles at the reference. "Cute." She stares at the wedding band on her left hand. "I'll ask him. But if he said he was there for her 24/7 I'll feel like crap."

"Do you really think that's a possibility?"

"No."

"And if he wasn't there where was he?"

"Either working or...well..."

"Right. The first is like you. Like _any_ other parent in the world, Emily." She pauses. "And the second option could never be you, Emily. I know your heart even when you doubt it. And you tend to doubt it when you are tired and frustrated."

Emily smiles as her wife's words still the storm in the brunette's soul. "You always settle me, Jennifer."

"As you settle me when I need it. I think it was a requirement of that marriage license we signed."

Emily chuckles. "Right. I forgot that clause. I love you, Jen."

"I love you, too, Emily."

"I guess I need to let you get some sleep and go back to the guys. They'll never crack this one without me," Emily jokes.

JJ chuckles. "Damn right, Agent Prentiss." JJ runs her hand over her stomach. "We love and miss you, Em. But we are so proud you are out there helping so many families find answers."

"You don't know how much I needed to hear that last part, sweetheart. Thank you."

"No problem, baby. Good luck."

"Thanks. Talk to you tomorrow."

"Count on it. Love you."

"Love you."

Like ripping off a band aid, Emily hangs up quickly. She sits for a few minutes more, just enjoying the silence and walls without bodies and faces taped up all over them. She gives herself 5 minutes of meditation then gets up to return to the room the team is using. She sees Morgan walking towards her and her shoulders slump at the look in his eyes.

"Don't tell me..."

"Woman reported missing. Low risk victim, same age range as majority of the vics in the newest storage facility."

"Son of a bitch," she mumbles. Let me grab my things."


	8. Chapter 8

As the two agents drive to a home in a nice, middle-class neighborhood, Emily frowns. "Why the gap in kills?" she asks suddenly.

Morgan glances at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, guesstimate of the most recent death places it at about a year ago."

"That's from the bodies we've found," Morgan points out. "Could be more storage units."

"Maybe. It just seems strange to me that Dr. Stewart goes on sabbatical because of a stalker, that stalker now ends up dead just after she returns, and now it appears the killings are starting up again."

Morgan thinks about that a moment. "You think Stewart is the killer?"

"I think we need to check into her. Obviously she's not the rapist but this whole...mummification process would be right up her alley. Maybe she's trying to unlock the mysteries of the ancients or working on some sort of thesis and these women are just...just experiments to her."

Morgan slowly nods. "Sadly, all that seems sickeningly plausible. How about tomorrow morning we do that follow up you wanted to do?"

"Sounds good to me."

The agents fall silent as they pull up to a house with a police car in the driveway. As they get out, they scan the area, noting some neighbors talking in small groups along the sidewalks. Others are in their homes pretending not to be staring out the window. As they get to the door of the home, it opens, a young officer standing there.

"Glad you all got here. The husband is hysterical. I think he's scaring the kids more than the uncertainty of their mother," she says quietly.

Emily sighs. "What do we know?"

"Frances Curtis went to her Zumba class as she always does. When she didn't come home right away he just assumed she went out with a few others for dinner, as she does sometimes. This is kind of her night for herself, you know?" The agents nod. "When it got past 9 he started calling friends. He even called the gym. Turns out, she never made it to the class. My partner called them back and found out she never misses so no chance she's been using it as a ruse to have an affair."

"Good follow up," Morgan praises.

"Yeah. So, we've got an APB out on her minivan. And her husband is typing up a list of names and numbers for us to follow up with. Honestly, I asked him to do that just to give him something to focus on. He's seen the reports in the news and he's in panic mode that his wife is the next mummy."

"Understandable," Emily says. She looks at Morgan. "I'll talk to the kids; see if their mother noticed anyone following her or was worried about anyone."

He nods. "I'll try to calm the husband. His name?" he asks the officer.

"Lenny."

"Okay. Let's do this," he mutters and walks into the living room to see a visibly distraught man. "Mr. Curtis, I'm Derek Morgan, this is Emily Prentiss with the FBI. We'd like to talk to you and your kids a little; get to know Frances."

The man stares at them and starts to cry. "No...please no...please tell me he doesn't have her!" he pleads.

Morgan shakes his head. "We have no idea. The police just asked us to assist since we're in the area. Agent Prentiss is going to speak with your children to see if they've seen or heard anything that could help us. I'd like to talk to you a little. Is that okay?"

"I...I...um..."

Emily steps forward. "Even if they don't have anything to tell me it will help them feel like they are doing something to help."

The man nods stiffly. "Right. Uh, okay."

Emily nods to Morgan then goes into the next room where she can hear a Disney movie playing. She smiles as she sees a boy and girl, probably 8 and 7, watching the movie.

"Hi, guys." They look up as she kneels down beside them, smiling. "My name is Emily and I am a police officer."

"You don't gots a uniform," the boy points out.

Emily nods. "True. But I do have this," she pulls out her badge and hands it over. "I am a special police officer."

He grins. "Cool."

Emily chuckles. "I think so. What's your name?"

"I'm J.R. and this is Molly. She doesn't talk much."

Emily looks at the girl who has gone back to watching the movie. She assumes a form of autism and turns her attention back to the boy.

"That's okay. She doesn't have to talk to me. J.R., do you know why I'm here?"

"I guess a'cause Mommy isn't home yet. Daddy is really worried."

Emily nods. "Yes, he is. Do you remember your Mommy saying if she had to meet someone tonight? Or go someplace special?"

J.R. shakes his head. "She gave us a kiss goodbye and said she was gonna get her Zumba on."

"Good. Do you know if she has a friend she might go see and forget to tell your father about?"

J.R. thinks a second. "Well, sometimes when she picks us up from school we go see Mr. Bordstein at the deli. He always winks and call us his most favorite customers. He'll give me a sausage and Molly the cheese she likes and then Mommy will buy stuff from him."

"I see. Is there anyone else? Maybe at school or the store or the park?"

J.R. thinks really hard then shakes his head. "No."

Emily studies the boy carefully. If the mother was having an affair or at all worried about a stranger her son did not know.

"You did really good tonight, J.R. Thank you for helping me."

"You're welcome." He hands her back her badge. "When I grow up I wanna be a cop, too."

Emily smiles and pats his head. "I think you'll make a great cop, J.R." She looks at the little girl. "Bye, Molly." The girl doesn't even acknowledge the agent.

"Don't be upset. She just acts different than most kids," J.R. says comfortingly.

"I'm not upset. But thank you for explaining. You're a good big brother."

He smiles and nods as Emily gets up and leaves the room. She is nearly back to the kitchen when her phone rings

"Yes, Hotch?"

"Garcia found her phone. Sending you the coordinates now," her boss states.

"She didn't take off, did she?" Emily whispers.

"Doesn't look like it."

"Okay. I'll get Morgan and head that way."

She gets to the kitchen to see Morgan reading off names and numbers over his phone, most likely to Garcia. Lenny Curtis stands.

"Did they know anything? Did they help?"

"Only in that they confirmed your wife wasn't concerned about anyone recently. They did mention she stops sometimes at a deli and the owner is very friendly."

Lenny nods, a small smile on his face. "Mr. Bordstein. I worked for him as a kid. He treats us like family to this day."

"Good." She glances at Morgan as he hangs up. "Morgan, Hotch found a potential witness."

Lenny grabs Emily's arm. "WHO?! WHERE?!"

She carefully takes his hand. "Someone where she worked out. I promise if it pans out we will be in touch. For now just stay near your phone in case she calls, okay?"

The man nods and sinks into a chair. "I should...I should put the kids back to bed. They woke when the officers arrived. Frances will be so upset if they are still up when she gets home."

Emily pats his shoulder consolingly. "Yes, that's a good idea. Keep things as normal for them as you can."

She and Morgan walk out of the house.

"Where are we really going?"

"Garcia didn't tell you?" He shakes his head. "She found her cell phone location. It doesn't look good."

"Damn."

* * *

Rossi, Reid and Hotch had driven to the scene that Garcia had pinpointed. Detectives Mares and Ambrose had also gone. The five men stand staring down a slight embankment at the minivan below.

"Son of a bitch. If your analyst hadn't tracked that phone we'd have never seen her down there," Mares notes.

"If she's in there," Reid points out.

Rossi takes a flashlight and starts to carefully make his way down the hill, knowing the knee that still gives Reid issues would prevent the genius from making the trek. Ambrose waits until Rossi is down before following him. Reid glances up and down the road.

"I know it's late but no cars have passed us yet. This seems pretty deserted," he notes.

Mares nods. "It is. Since the bypass went in few people use this road, especially at night. Lot of deer and curves make it dangerous." He looks at the agents. "No way she'd use this road to get to her house from the gym or back, regardless of the bypass. Wrong side of town."

"So either she wasn't where she said she'd be or this was dumped here," Hotch concludes. Mares just nods. Hotch's phone rings. "You're on speaker, Dave."

"She's not in here but her gym bag and purse are. We need CSI's here because her seat is pushed back farther than her height would need. I don't think she drove it last."

"They are on their way," Mares confirms. "Had to finish up at a convenience store robbery."

"Good. Maybe we'll get lucky and find fingerprints," Rossi hopes.

Hotch hangs up and looks up the road as headlights finally appear. He recognizes the other SUV and shakes his head: still no civilians. This road was chosen carefully by the unsub due to its lack of traffic. He looks at Mares.

"We need to look into lost and abandoned vehicles. Some of our bodies could be tied to them and it's possible they weren't crossed with missing person's information in other jurisdictions."

Mares nods. "I see what you mean. This is for that...geographic profile you mentioned?"

Hotch nods. "Exactly."

Mares pulls out his phone. "I'll get someone pulling it now. Should have it all by morning."

"Is it her?" Emily asks as she and Morgan walk up.

"Her minivan but she's not in it," Reid confirms. "Her purse and gym bag are, though."

"So this wasn't robbery or an accident," Morgan concludes. "Those bastards have another victim."

"Yes. And they did it to snub their nose at us," Reid states.

"Shit," Emily mutters.

Hotch looks at his team. "You three go back to the hotel and get some sleep. Rossi and I will be back as soon as the CSI's get here."

"In the morning I want to go back to the university. I want to talk to Stewart again but I also want to talk to her colleagues. I want to know more about her stalker and what led her to go on sabbatical early. Seems odd to me the killings apparently stopped while she was gone," Emily says.

Hotch nods. "Good idea. Reid, go with her. Your PhD's may give us more credibility with the faculty and make them more comfortable answering questions about another professor."

Reid nods. "Okay."

"Morgan, I know it's late but we're now running behind a ticking clock. Let's be in the lobby at 6:30 so we can get back to the station."

It is nearly 1 a.m. when the trio gets back to the hotel. Emily crawls into bed but her mind won't turn off and she tosses and turns. It is just after 3 the last time she looks at the clock, only to dream she is stuck in a pyramid trying to find a woman, her only guide a little girl muted by autism. It is a frustrating, restless sleep and does not bode well for the coming day.


	9. Chapter 9

A look online had shown Emily and Reid that Stewart's first lecture was scheduled for 8 a.m. She and Reid get to the university early enough to watch from a distance to see how she looks when she arrives. At 7:30 they see her walking up to the building, satchel over one shoulder, coffee cup in one hand, a magazine in the other.

"Just a regular old professor heading into her building," Reid says.

Emily nods. "Yep. Is she calm because she's innocent or calm because mummifying a woman is just academic to her?"

"Good question."

Fifteen minutes later the two get out of their SUV and make their way into the building. They make sure to avoid Stewart's office and classroom as they go to the head of the Department of Eastern Studies. Seeing his door closed, Emily taps lightly. A moment later it is opened by a man who is such a stereotypical professor she has to bite back a laugh: tweed coat with elbow patches, ring of slightly unruly white hair, Benjamin Franklin-style spectacles on the end of his nose, and a large book in his hand.

"Dr. Sauerbrunn?"

"Yes."

Emily and Reid hold up their badges. "I'm SSA Emily Prentiss and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. We'd like to speak with you a few minutes."

He sighs and steps aside to allow them to enter. "I can guess why. Come in."

After the three are seated, Dr. Sauerbrunn sighs. "I can assume this has to do with Dexter Gold and Dr. Stewart."

Emily nods. "Yes, sir. What can you tell me about what occurred that necessitated Stewart going on sabbatical?"

He lifts an eyebrow. "Necessitated it? I'm not sure I'd call it that."

Reid frowns. "But I thought she said he had started to stalk her."

Sauerbrunn leans on his desk, carefully pyramiding his hands as he contemplates his answer. "That was...her claim. Honestly, I never saw anything to substantiate that claim."

"You didn't believe her?" Emily confirms.

"I didn't say that. I just said I couldn't substantiate her claim. The times I observed them together she did not seem distressed and he did not appear to be overly attentive to her personally. Yes, he listened to her as they discussed his thesis but I never got the feeling he saw her as anything but a professor."

"Then why was her early sabbatical approved?" Reid asks.

"I assume you are aware of the psychology of mob mentality?"

Reid sits up excitedly. "Of course. In fact, literature and studies on mob mentality have appeared as early as the mid-1800's. In fact, Charles Mackay published a book in 1841 that- -"

"REID!" Emily interrupts, seeing a VERY long-winded speech beginning. "I think his question was rhetorical."

Reid sits back, blushing slightly. "Oh."

Sauerbrunn actually cracks a smile. "So now I know for sure your title is academic, Dr. Reid."

Reid nods. "Yes, sir."

"Anyway, my observations of my colleagues is that they started listening to Stewart complain a little about Gold. Then she'd sprinkle in fear, which she would then just laugh off. It was quite impressive the way she worked them all."

"So you think she was making it up?" Emily confirms.

"I'd stake my reputation on it. Then she started dropping hints that if she could just get away for a little while, get out of his sight, things might be okay. Lo and behold the perfect study comes to light."

"And suddenly she hints that if she goes on that study Gold would have time to get over her," Emily concludes.

"Exactly. Now I know for a fact she knew about that study for months before she pretended to discover it. A few well-placed statements and suddenly her colleagues are suggesting she take a sabbatical. She pretended to say no but no one can hide that devious sparkle in their eyes completely. She played the other members of this department like a piano. She is quite devious and she knows how to play people. My concerns were written off as male bias but I don't trust Stewart. I don't trust her one bit."

Emily and Reid exchange a look. They had not expected such candor from anyone at the university. Sauerbrunn chuckles.

"You wonder why I'm so vocal instead of protecting her?" he guesses. They nod. "I retire at the end of the year. After almost 40 years here I figure what's the worst they can do? Make me leave early? I'm tired of holding my tongue under the guise of department cohesiveness. Academically she is brilliant and her lectures are wonderful. Personally, she is the proverbial rattlesnake asking for a ride across the river: you know what she is and she will bite you midway across."

Reid grins. "Well said. Are there any others we can speak to who could either confirm your opinion or support her allegations?"

"I think most will support her," he says, then thinks a moment. "Did I see that you all are with the BAU?"

"Yes, sir," Emily answers.

"Then maybe you know the mind games to play to help open their eyes to the truth about this whole situation. If you don't, well, I think all you'll hear are 'Poor little Nicole' stories. And if I hear any more of those I just might have to forget I'm a gentleman and say what I feel."

Emily smiles. "We'll do our best to keep that from happening, Dr. Sauerbrunn."

He smiles and bows his head to her. "Thank you, my dear, Agent Prentiss."

Reid and Emily take their leave of the helpful professor. In the hallway they stare at each other a moment.

"Other professors?" Reid asks.

"Definitely. And then Dr. Stewart herself."

Reid nods and the two go to find another professor to interview.

* * *

With Reid and Emily at the university, Morgan decides to work the geographic profile. He starts by finding the vehicles associated with any of the women who had been identified so far. It doesn't take long to see the unsubs had been careful to dispense of the cars in lowly populated areas around Charlotte. Even women taken from other areas of the state had ended up in this area, proving the killers were willing to travel to find their victims.

"But why," he wonders aloud. "Why worry about hunting far and wide for your victims?" He steps over to the board showing the first group of bodies. All but 5 are now identified and only 2 had cars registered to them. He steps to the next board showing the second batch of women, looking at the hometowns of the women that had been identified already. "Chapel Hill, Wilmington, Asheville, just to name a few. Why did they..." and then it hits him. He turns to Hotch and Rossi. "No one gives a damn about missing hookers. They searched for the low risk victims to prevent them from being linked. Because if all these women were disappearing just in Charlotte- -"

"The media frenzy would be unending," Rossi finishes, nodding as he sees the answer, too. "But then they grab a woman from Charlotte while we are here."

"If they are the ones that took her," Hotch cautions. "There was nothing in the vehicle to show that Curtis will end up raped and mummified. She could be a coincidence."

Morgan and Rossi nod in agreement but all 3 men are sure she is linked. She is a way for the unsubs to show off how much smarter they are than the police and the FBI. Hotch picks up a piece of paper.

"According to this latest report from the M.E. he thinks the women were tortured for at least 5 days before they were killed. They then went through the mummification process before being interred in the tub at the storage facility. If Curtis is connected to our investigation we have 4 days to find her alive."

As if she had heard in his voice the need for a new lead, Garcia calls.

"Garcia, what do you have?"

"A large shipment of wine."

All the men lean towards the phone. "Where, Baby Girl?" Morgan asks.

"Okay, well, see, the M.E. was able to determine the type of wine used in the process. So I sort of took a little peak into their shipment records and found a fairly high amount suddenly going to Red's Liquors. A quick little peek into their system shows that they had a special order. In fact, they have a series of special orders for this particular brew going back several years, minus last year when there were no calls for it."

"Do you know who receives this shipment?"

"It is a private collector according to their records. My guess is it's being sold to someone as personal use and not being sold to a country club or other establishment," she tells them.

Morgan and Rossi are already moving towards the door. "I'm assuming this text is their address?"

"You assume right, my god of Chocolate Thunder," she tells him.

As the two agents leave to follow this lead, Hotch leans on the table. "What else do you have, Garcia?"

"It's more what I don't have, sir. Not a single report to campus or local police by Stewart against Gold."

"Some women never do report stalking, Garcia. You know that."

"I know, sir. But if she was so worried, wouldn't she have at least called for an escort to her car, or called to report a prowler or something if he was just always there?"

Hotch thinks about it a moment. "I admit, it is strange there isn't anything but we can't be sure she didn't handle it off the books. He was her thesis student so she may have felt a sort of protective instinct for him."

"Maybe. But if a guy was giving me the heebie jeebies so bad I had to leave the country you best believe everyone from the FBI all the way down to local mall cops would know about it."

Hotch can't help but grin. "Good point. Email that info to Emily and Reid. They are hoping to talk to her later this morning."

"Will do."

"How are you doing with identifying remains?"

"Slow going. The faces are, ugh, distorted by the mummification so it's taken some filtering to confirm matches to missing person photos. I have a tech working on those i.d.'s exclusively since it takes so much refining."

"Very good. Out of curiosity, with 2 storage lockers now confirmed, is there any way to solidify any other possible locations?"

"That is running now. I have to say, I don't think so but I'll keep my eyes crossed for luck, sir."

Hotch grins. "Your eyes?"

"I need my fingers for typing and the platforms I am wearing today won't let me cross my toes."

Hotch actually laughs. "Of course. Silly me. Keep up the good work, Garcia."

"Always. Over and out!"

Hotch hangs up and shakes his head, once again wondering what he would have done if he'd listened to Gideon and not hired the off-the-wall analyst.

* * *

The young professor looks slightly uncomfortable. He stares out the window of his office a moment before answering the question he has been asked. Was there anything about his colleague that gave him pause for concern? He finally sighs and looks back at the agent.

"She is...obsessed with the ancient world and the rituals of death in those worlds. Now you may think that doesn't sound strange since she's a professor but..." he pauses again. "Agents, please understand, I am not judging anyone for their pastimes. Everyone has hobbies, right?"

Reid nods supportively. "Yes. Of course."

The man looks relieved at that answer. "I had been working on an article for publication and forgot a book I needed. I came up here on a Saturday evening and heard...strange music coming from Dr. Stewart's office. I was going to stop by just to tease her about having a social life as bad as mine but..."

"But what?" Emily encourages.

He stares at his hands a moment, then looks up, his face painted with incredulousness. "She was dressed like an ancient Egyptian priestess or something and she was...she was putting something red and...wet looking into some clay jars."

"Clay jars? Where they in the shapes of animals or possible deities?" Reid presses.

"Yeah...yeah, they were canopic-style jars." Suddenly he sits up as he puts that memory together with what he has been seeing on the news. "Oh God...Oh, no...please tell me those weren't...that the other Tupperware containers didn't have...oh, God, please tell me my assumption that she was doing something with animal parts is right. Please."

Reid and Emily exchange a look. Of course Stewart would keep the organs. Most people would just assume her canopic jar collection is just for show. Only she would know the deadly secret inside. Most serial killers keep a trophy to help them relive the kill over and over again. These secret collections are usually well hidden, lest the killer be discovered. But Stewart's trophy collection could be at her fingertips, could be admired by others, and no one but she would know its deadly secret. No one would even suspect.

Emily and Reid both stand. Time to speak with the object of suspicion before she gets word that they are asking about her. They thank the professor for his time and make their way to Stewart's office in hopes of questioning her when she gets out of class.

* * *

Morgan flashes his badge at the woman behind the counter at Red's Liquors. She raises her eyebrows.

"That's no ABC credential. What the hell have I done to attract Federal attention?" she asks nervously.

Morgan gives her a calming smile. "Nothing illegal, I promise. I'm SSA Derek Morgan, this is SSA Dave Rossi. We're here to- -"

"Dave Rossi the author? Holy shit!"

Rossi blushes and grins. "Yes, the author."

"Wow. Who'd'a thunk you'd be in my store? Wish I had one of my books for you to autograph. I love true crime shit. Sometimes it's less believable than Hollywood blockbusters."

Rossi nods. "Very true. Try living it day to day. It's even crazier."

"I'll bet. Say, in your book on- -"

"Uh, Ms. Lee," Morgan interrupts. "I hate to stop you but we are here on time sensitive business."

"Oh. Right. Of course."

"I'm sure you've seen the stuff on the news about- -"

Before Morgan can finish his question, the front window shatters. He barely registers the hole that opens on Lee's forehead before Rossi drags him to the ground. He quickly recovers and crawls to the doors, trying to see if he can find the shooter. He sees a truck speeding down the road but can't make out the driver. The license plate is missing.

"Fuck!" he looks over his shoulder.

Rossi had crawled around the counter to confirm what was already suspected: Ms. Lee is dead. Rossi glances around but doesn't see any log books. Hearing Morgan calling for back up and for the coroner, Rossi risks standing and walks back into the small office area set up in the back room. He pulls on gloves and starts to flip through folders on the desk. Bills. Invoices. New product promos. Drink recipes.

"Ah. Special orders," he murmurs and pulls that one out of the rack.

He flips through the pages until he finds one with the wine name he is looking for. He pulls that page out and thumbs through the rest to confirm this is the only person asking for this brand in large quantities. He scans the dates ordered and notices that once again there was a year where no wine was brought. More proof, in his mind, that Stewart is involved. Unfortunately there is yet another name to add to their suspect pool. He pulls out his phone.

"Garcia, I need you to run a name for me: Tony Akers. He was the one supposedly ordering the wine by the case."

"On it. You'll have his bio as soon as I do."

"Thanks, Garcia." He hangs up as Morgan walks in. "Shooter got away?"

Morgan nods. "Yeah. Common pick-up truck, no plate I could see, windows tinted enough I couldn't guess if a man or woman was driving. Find anything?"

"Another name for Garcia to run," Rossi says, handing over the special purchase log. "No one else was ordering this wine. This is our guy."

Morgan nods. "Most likely since it's coded for personal use at the top," he agrees. He shakes his head and looks back out at the deceased owner's body. "How the hell did they know we'd found Red's?"

"They may not have known. Killing Gold, Carmen, and her may be a way of cutting ties."

"True. And if the name is false, we can't even get a description now."

Rossi shrugs. "Maybe it won't be false. One of our geeks mentioned the priest would have a team. Could be our mummification specialist does, too. And not just the bastards that rape the women before killing them."

Morgan thinks a second. "Rossi...what if...what if there is a priestess and maybe, just maybe, she was supposed to have been a victim? She somehow manages to not only get her captors to not kill her but she turns them into partners. They have their fun with the victims, she gets to mummify them. Had the first storage facility not been found there would have been no trace of these women found. It's win-win for both parties."

Rossi mulls that over then starts to nod his head. "That makes more sense to me than anything. Gold and Pritchett were rapists. A professor leaving late at night would have been the perfect mark."

"Only she sees something in them that lets her connect to them. Maybe...maybe the police had started to figure out who they were? She offers them a way to keep doing what they love and it allows her to experience mummification first hand," Morgan finishes the scenario.

Rossi nods. "We need to have Mares and Ambrose ask other detectives about serial rapes that suddenly stopped around the time the oldest victim was killed."

Eager to get on this new line of thought, Morgan calls Mares as Rossi steps outside to greet the first responders to the murder scene.

* * *

Dr. Nicole Stewart lets out a theatrical sigh as she sits down behind her desk. Emily has to fight to keep from rolling her eyes at the lame attempt to appear remorseful.

"I have to say, I am glad I don't have to watch over my shoulder anymore but...well, no one deserves to be murdered," Stewart says. "He was a brilliant student. It's a shame that he couldn't fulfil his potential."

"Yes. A shame," Reid agrees. Emily is the only one that hears the tinge of sarcasm in his statement.

"So, I guess you all are done here? I mean, now that you know Gold was the killer?"

"A killer," Emily replies.

Stewart frowns. "What...what do you mean?"

"Gold didn't work alone," Emily explains. "Photos and videos we found prove he had at least 1 partner. Maybe more."

"There were photos?" Stewart blurts out. "And videos? I mean...he was...I didn't realize the depth of his depravity," she covers.

Reid and Emily both see her microexpressions lighting up her face like a billboard. She hadn't known about the photos but the quick question about the videos tells her she knew about those and suspected they were all gone.

"Yes," Reid answers. "Most serial rapists and killers have to have tangible mementos of their violence. In this case we believe it was the photos and videos as well as the internal organs. As you know, a true mummification would have included the organs either placed back in the body or placed in ceremonial jars with the body. The demented mind behind these mummifications was either too dumb to know that or was just as sick as the rapist and kept the organs as trophies."

Stewards face had reddened at Reid's dig against the intelligence of the unsub. That is the reason he said it. Both he and Emily see the flash of anger in her eyes as she recognizes he is challenging her intelligence and she can do nothing about it lest she give herself away. Stewart takes a few deep breaths then plasters on a fake smile.

"I'm...sorry. This is...is a lot to take in. Tell me: am I in danger?"

Emily lifts an eyebrow. "Do you think you should be?"

"Well...I...know about mummies and you all have been consulting with me. Seems like it could make this killer target me. I've been the victim of one stalker, Agents. I don't wish to be the target of another."

"I don't think you have much to worry about," Emily assures her. "But we do have a few other questions for you so we can close out the Gold portion of our investigation."

"Of course. Whatever you need."

"Did Gold ever ask you about rape in the ancient world?" Reid asks.

"No! Never. Why would he?"

"Did he ever talk to you about modern attempts at mummification?" Emily continues.

"No. I mean, academically only if it came up. Like when mummies were found that came later than Ancient Egypt."

"Why didn't you file any police reports about him?" Reid asks.

She turns her attention back to Reid. They can tell she doesn't like the agents tossing her back and forth since it doesn't give her time to read them. If she can't read them, she can't adjust her answers accordingly.

"Well, I...look, I just thought he was a confused young man. I didn't want to ruin his life."

"But he could have ruined yours if the sabbatical hadn't magically come up," Emily points out.

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean...well, I am sure something could have been done if I'd had to stay. Maybe I could have- -"

"You're not tenured. You could have looked for another university," Reid interrupts.

"NO! Why should I change my ways just because Dex is being a freak?"

"Dex? Awfully casual for someone you were scared of," Emily notes.

"Well, I wasn't...wasn't always scared of him and I...I...I wanted to help him. He was a good guy mostly."

"Except he was a rapist, right?" Reid corrects.

"What?! No! He wasn't? Was he?"

Emily nods. "His DNA was found on items in the storage facility. Tests have shown it is old sperm."

"No way! The mummification process would have destroyed any evidence on the bodies!" she insists.

"But not on the clothes and magazines," Reid tells her.

The conversation had been rapid-fire, Stewarts head swinging back and forth between the agents, getting her more and more flustered. Finally she leaps up.

"STOP! Just...stop! I don't...want to hear anymore. Get out. I have to get ready for my next class."

Emily glances at her watch. "You have over 2 hours to get ready."

Stewart glares at her. "I have to prepare my slide show. Now, please, get out."

Emily and Reid exchange a look as they stand. "Please call us if you have any more information that can help," Reid says.

"Right. Go," Stewart insists, her face red with fury.

The two agents walk out and head for their car. Once inside they stare at the door of the Ancient Studies building.

"Five minutes?" Reid suggests.

"Maybe. But if those canopic jars behind her desk are what we think they are, longer. She'll pack them very carefully."

Reid nods. "Good point. You know, I think they are more than trophies for her. I bet they are experiments, too, testing how long it takes the oils and other funerary spices to break down the organs. That sort of information could help narrow down time frames on mummies found with no tombs and no life information. Her name on a study like that would make her very popular in the Ancient Studies community."

"Even if she found it by murdering 50 or more women?"

"Well, that would get the study frowned upon but only if it's proven."

"Then we'll sure as hell prove it," Emily states.

Twenty minutes later she puts the SUV in gear as Reid calls Hotch. "Hotch? Stewart it on the move. She loaded 4 large storage tubs into her Navigator."

"Keep your distance. If Frances Curtis is a captive we don't want to do anything that could get her killed."

"Got it. We'll let you know where she ends up."

Reid hangs up and passes on Hotch's warning. Emily nods, trying to stay back far enough to not be noticed but without losing Stewart as she drives farther out of the city.

"This isn't taking us where she lives with Pritchett," Emily points out.

Reid nods and hits Garcia's number. "Garcia, check for anyplace else Pritchett, Gold or Stewart might have connections to West of Charlotte. She is not headed home but we are pretty sure she has a car full of evidence."

"Got it, Boy Wonder. Hit you back if I find something."

Reid hangs up and the two agents fall into silence as they track their prey.


	10. Chapter 10

Morgan and Rossi find out from Garcia that the man who orders the wine resides in an elderly care facility. Suspecting someone there is using his information to order the wine, they make their way to the home and ask to speak with the director of patient care. After introducing themselves, Rossi sits forward in his chair.

"Considering you are an advanced care facility, can I assume it is doubtful that Tony Akers is ordering wine by the case?"

The director groans. "Yes, I am afraid you are correct. Now I'll have to see who stole his credit card or banking information and- -"

"Easy, sir, he may not have used his money just his name," Morgan clarifies.

"That's right. From what I saw the cases were paid in cash," Rossi explains. "Is there anyone who may have been able to access documents to allow them to get a license with Akers' name?"

The director thinks a moment. "Sadly, I think anyone could. Our paper files are in a regular old file cabinet. Even though it is locked wouldn't take much to get it open."

Morgan sighs and looks at Rossi. The two agents are trying to decide what to ask without giving away any details of the case that they don't want the public to have. Rossi shrugs and looks back at the director.

"Any of your employees...obsessed with ancient Egypt?"

The director slowly shakes his head. "If they are, they hide it well. I'm sorry."

"Mind if we ask around? Or maybe speak with Akers or the nurses that work with him regularly? Maybe they know something about who is impersonating him," Morgan requests.

The director shrugs. "Be my guest. But I warn you: Akers is in advanced Alzheimer's. What he says can only be taken with a grain of salt. His memories are...well..."

Morgan nods. "I understand. Thank you."

The director leads them around himself to the various nurses that work with Akers. The two agents speak with caregivers, other residents, and Akers himself for the better part of 2 hours but do not get a solid lead. As they are ready to leave, Morgan sees an orderly they had not spoken with sitting outside with a woman in a wheelchair. A strange tattoo on the man's arm catches the agent's eye and he lifts his phone to zoom in and snap a picture. He texts it out.

 _"Princess, recognize this?"_

* * *

When Emily's phone alerts her to a text, she pulls it off her hip and tosses it to Reid so she can keep her eyes on the road. Reid frowns as he opens it up.

"It's from Morgan. He wants to know if you recognize this guy's tattoo."

"What is it?"

Reid looks at the blurry image a moment. "Kind of looks like...like a dog holding a weird shaped stick..."

"Anubis," the agents say at the same time.

"And I bet the stick is a sekhem," Emily finishes.

Reid nods. "Definitely." He starts to type. "Any chance it's a coincidence?"

"Doubt it," Emily mutters. "Fuck. Too rural. I can't keep following."

She pulls into a small gas station, lest Stewart see she is being followed. She takes her phone back from Reid and calls Garcia.

"PG, ping my phone. Where the hell might Stewart be going in this area?"

"As soon as I know you'll know, Princess," Garcia promises. "And before you ask, Stewart's phone is still in her office at the university."

"Smart woman. Would you happen to know her most frequent contacts?"

Garcia clicks a few keys. "Pritchett and 3 disposable phones."

"Figures. Try to find those mystery phones, Garcia."

"Will do."

Garcia signs off as Emily stares down the road where Stewart had disappeared. She looks over at Reid.

"Let's say we go inside and see if anyone knows our friendly professor or any of her cohorts."

Reid nods, wishing there was more they could do.

* * *

When Morgan gets Emily's response, he steps outside to have a few words with the orderly. All he finds is the woman.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but where did the man that was with you go?"

"Jimmy? Is that you, Jimmy? Oh, you've grown into a fine young man," she says, smiling happily at Morgan.

Morgan cusses to himself. She would be no help. He gives her a smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

"I always told my husband that some of your type is bad but you would be different. The Army was good for you, Jimmy. You'll make a good man no matter what colour you are."

Despite the tense case, Morgan can't help but chuckle. He can guess where the woman's mind is trapped and it well before Martin Luther King's March. He pats her on the shoulder.

"People like you believing in me helped make the difference. Thank you for your support."

"You're welcome, dear. You best hurry home. Your Mama will be worried."

He nods. "Yes, ma'am. I will."

He turns and sees Rossi standing not too far away, grinning. Morgan just shrugs as he walks over.

"Orderly is gone. He must have seen us. Let's get his info."

"You were good to her, Derek," he says proudly.

Morgan smiles and glances back. "She seems to be stuck in the 50's or early 60's. She could have been a lot worse to me considering."

"True. Let's go see if we can find out who tattoo man is."

The agents go inside to get as much info as they can on the orderly so Garcia can add him to her runs.

* * *

"Hotch, we're in a small town called Patterson Springs, about 45 minutes west of Charlotte. Garcia is searching for something with a connection to any of our suspects but so far nothing. Reid and I talked to the manager of this gas station but he doesn't recognize anyone we've shown him so far."

"Damn it. Morgan and Rossi identified another possible suspect about 30 minutes ago. Maybe Garcia will find the link to him."

"Hopefully. Otherwise we're just sitting here for nothing and meanwhile a kidnapped woman could be close to us and we'll never know. Son of a bitch," she mutters.

"Just hang out there a bit longer. If it turns out this orderly is connected somehow maybe he lives out that way. If so we'll be driving out to meet you."

"And if not?"

"We can...decide what to do at that time." Hotch runs a hand through his hair. "I am so damn frustrated by this case."

Emily manages a wry smile. "You ain't the only one, Bossman." She glances at her watch. "I'm going to go inside and see if Reid's system for choosing lottery scratch off winners works or not. If it does consider this my 2 weeks notice."

Hotch chuckles. "Right. Just waiting for your lucky number to come up, Prentiss. I know how it is."

Emily laughs. "Yeah, exactly. Talk to you soon, Hotch."

Emily hangs up and holsters her phone. She walks inside the store and glances around, not seeing Reid at the counter or anywhere. She walks up to the manager.

"So, did my partner strike it rich and call for a limo?" she jokes.

He grins and nods to a side door. "Restroom is out back."

"Ah, okay."

Emily strolls around. She stops at the magazine rack and starts to read the headlines. She laughs at a few of the more outlandish tabloids and fights the urge to buy the one about Bigfoot being a government cyborg used to spy on foreign countries. After a few minutes she looks around again. Still no Reid. She looks at her watch.

 _"Five more minutes. He did eat one of the microwave burritos here,_ " she tells herself.

She wanders some more, looking at the cheap little toys for sale. She can't help but picture Henry, Rocky and two more kids begging for these amazing treasures. And, yes, most likely she would buy them. She is such a sap. She scans the DVD's and CD's in a rack, surprised to see a number of them in Spanish. She looks at her watch again, then turns to the side door.

"Where the hell is he?" she mumbles.

She wanders outside and sees the restrooms near the back of the building. She taps on the men's room door.

"Reid? You okay?" No answer. "Reid?" Nothing. "REID?" she yells and bangs.

The hair on the back of her neck stands up. She pulls her gun and tries the door handle. It is unlocked. She takes a deep breath then throws the door open, her gun sweeping the small room. It is empty.

"Fuck."

She hurries to the corner and carefully peers around the back of the building. Still nothing. She moves to the back, looking behind the small dumpster and then in it. Still no Reid. She pulls her phone off her hip and presses his quick dial number. It rings twice before it goes dead. Her stomach trips. She remembers her wife being in a similar situation with the young genius.

"Oh, so not good," she mutters. She calls Hotch. "Hotch? Reid is missing."


	11. Chapter 11

Emily stares at the grainy image on the security feed in the gas station office. Because of where he parked, she can't see the license plate of the car but she can see the tattoo on his arm: it's the orderly Morgan had noticed.

"Very distinctive. So are you a priest of hers or what?" she questions under her breath.

She sees the man walk towards the bathroom. He pauses and looks to be speaking to someone. He glances down at his arm, then back up again. His face goes from calm to furious and he punches out at his unseen companion. He steps briefly out of sight, leaning down. When he stands back up Reid is over his shoulder, obviously unconscious.

"Please just be out, Spencer," Emily whispers. She turns and looks at the station manager. "Do you know that guy?"

The man nods. "Yes. He's my son."

"He's what?!" Emily stands when she sees what he is holding.

"My son," the man repeats, cocking the gun in his hand.

Emily glances at the weapon then back up again. "Then why let me watch this?"

"He was stalling so I could come back for you," the tattooed man explains.

Emily sees the large man. She contemplates her chances for getting away and knows there is none. Her only hope is her teammates are using lights and sirens to get to the store.

"Take her gun, son. Time to take her to Anput."

Emily's eyes narrow. "Anput? You mean Dr. Stewart?"

"SHE GOES BY ANPUT!" the man screams. His voice calms, a deadly lilt to it. "You will do well to show her proper respect when next you meet her."

Emily just stands as the younger man steps in and grabs her gun off her hip. He takes her phone, drops it and then steps on it. She rolls her eyes...Requisitions is going to be SO pissed. He grabs her arm and shoves her out of the office.

"Do anything stupid and the geek gets killed immediately," he warns her.

"And if I don't do anything, he'll get killed later. Tell me: what is my motivation here, Hulk?" she taunts him.

The man backhands her. "Watch your mouth!" He pulls her close and whispers menacingly in her ear. "You won't be so sarcastic once Pritchett finishes with you. With Gold gone, maybe I can help him with his games." He sniffs her neck, making her shiver involuntarily. "Yeah...I think I could enjoy that."

He shoves her out the door...

* * *

...and into the path of her teammates, Mares and Ambrose. Emily grins, spins around and slams her palm into the bridge of the man's nose. He automatically releases her as he grabs at his face. She dives to the ground and rolls out of the line of fire.

"DROP YOUR GUN!" Hotch orders the store owner.

The man stares at the five guns pointed at him, then at his son, then at Emily.

"Don't do it," Hotch warns.

The man spins the gun towards Emily.

Five guns fire, driving his body back into his store. The orderly turns in horror.

"DAD!" He spins towards Emily. "I'll fucking kill you myself!"

"DON'T!" Emily screams, raising her hand towards him. He pauses. "Surrender now and live. Make a move towards me or the cops and they will shoot. Do you really want to die here like your father?"

The man seems to consider that a minute. Then with a roar he leaps at Emily. Guns fire again, driving him into the wall, which he bounces off and lands on Emily. Morgan races forward and pulls him off.

"PRENTISS!"

"I'm fine. I'm okay. Where's his car? Reid may still be in it."

Morgan offers his hand and pulls her up. "Hotch and Rossi are checking it out."

Emily stoops and grabs her gun out of the waistband of the orderly. "What the fuck is going on, Derek?"

"Looks like you confirmed the theory of the priestess having a team."

"Yeah. Bully for me." Emily runs a hand through her hair. She stops as she notices the blood on her arm. She looks at her shirt and sees it is also stained. "Son of a bitch. Walk with me while I change." They go to the SUV and Emily opens the back to get an FBI t-shirt out of the back end. "They call Stewart 'Anput'. She is the goddess of funerals and mummification and consort of Anubis." She gestures towards the dead men. "These two are part of the deal. Junior, there, isn't one of the rapists. Yet. Based on what he said Pritchett and Gold were the ones raping the women. The rest of them, however many there may be, are obviously there to help with the rituals Stewart puts the bodies through for mummification."

"So...it's like a fucking cult."

Emily nods. "Yeah. We thought Alpha-Omega issues. Our profile was fucked because we weren't thinking cult."

Hotch and Rossi walk up. The chief is on his cell phone.

"No sign of Reid," Rossi states. "Well...except his badge and phone are in the car. Phone is smashed."

"He has to be close. We were only apart like 10 minutes," Emily states. "And the time stamp of the abduction was only 5 minutes before he came for me."

Hotch hangs up and walks over. "These two live on a farm just down the road. Mares is calling for SWAT support from the State Police. As far as we know they have Reid and possibly Frances Curtis. We need to get a covert look at the property and plan accordingly."

Emily nods. "Understood. But, Hotch, she is a cult leader with diehard followers. These two prove that. She won't surrender and neither will they. And...and Reid will..." She shivers, remembering her time with Ben Cyrus. "They will hurt Reid for information and for...for disrupting their plans."

"True. But they won't kill him. Not yet. Trust Reid to take whatever they throw at him," Hotch says. He steps forward and places a hand on her shoulder. "She is not Cyrus and this is not a compound filled with children. This will be over tonight."

Emily just nods, praying her boss is right but unable to shake the memories haunting the back of her mind.

* * *

Reid's first sense to reawaken is smell. He can smell the pungent odor of death, wine, and some sort of incense burning. These smells awaken his mind and all he can think is:

" _Oh, shit_."

He starts to feel the ropes on his wrists, which are pulled up over his head and secured to the slab of stone he is resting upon. Subtle movements of his legs tell him his ankles are bound to opposite corners of the end of the table. He fights the urge to shiver at how helpless he is. He lies as still as possible, trying to reach out with all of his senses to figure out if he is alone or not. He jumps as someone smacks his cheek.

"Stop faking it, Dr. Reid. Your breathing changed. We know you're awake."

Reid slowly opens his eyes and stares up at Stewart. He glances around and sees Pritchett as well as 5 other men. The only person he doesn't see is the man that had grabbed him. Considering the man was the size of a linebacker or 2, he thinks that may be a good thing.

"You're partner is in the room next door awaiting Pritchett and the rest of my priests."

Reid starts to struggle against the ropes holding him down. "NO! Leave her alone!" He is panicked at the thought of Emily suffering the same fate as the women in the photos he had seen.

Stewart grins maliciously. "Then tell us exactly what you all know."

Reid swallows. He wants to protect Emily but knows she would be angry if he gives up information on the case on her behalf. But could he ever look at her or JJ again if he lets her get raped and brutalized?

"Times of the essence here, Dr. Reid," Stewart states impatiently.

Reid takes a deep breath...and tells her everything the team had figured out so far. When he finishes Stewart grins, but there is nothing nice in the look.

"You all are very, very good. All that just because my darling Clay got testy when he was questioned." She turns and pins Pritchett with a deadly stare. "Sloppy, Clay. Very, very sloppy. Looks like you're the next mess to be cleaned up."

Pritchett's face pales as the other men all turn towards him. He starts to shake his head. "NO! Please, Anput! I'll...I'll fix things! I swear!"

The men pounce on him like rabid dogs. Pritchett fights desperately but soon he is bound hand and foot. Stewart walks over and stares down at him.

"Say hello to my husband Anubis, Clay."

Reid shivers as the men drag the still screaming man away. "What...what are you going to do to him?"

Stewart turns and smiles, for the first time seeming to be happy. "Time to feed the cat."

Reid is confused until he hears the crack of the whip and the screams of Pritchett. Obviously he was being flayed by a cat-of-nine tails, whose origin was in Ancient Egypt. He stares up at the professor.

"You're insane," he mutters.

She slaps him across the face. "Watch it, Dr. Reid...or Emily Prentiss will meet the cat next."

She gags him then follows the sounds of torture out of the room. Reid struggles against the ropes holding him, knowing if he and Emily don't get out soon they will both be facing horrible torture at the hands of what he now realizes is a cult, not just a murderess and her cronies.

* * *

"Well, Gary was fine until about 8 years ago. That's when someone murdered his second wife. She was a good bit younger than him but she just adored him and he her," a neighbor of the store owner explains. "Well, some bastard broke in, you know...assaulted her...then killed her. Cops never did find the bastard that did it. His son moved back in to help him take care of the land. Had to give up schooling but he got a good job. Then he started taking night classes. About...oh, 4 years ago we started seeing people visit. We thought it was nice that Gary was getting social again."

Hotch's studies the man as his voice trails off. "You 'thought' it was nice. What changed your mind?"

The man rubs his neck, clearly uncomfortable with judging his neighbor. "I just...I went by one night to let him know there was going to be an auction at the VFW hall. I figured he was getting social again he might enjoy it." He stares up at the ceiling. "The smell was...I don't know what it was but you could smell it before you got to his steps. I kinda figured 2 men living alone and, well, maybe things weren't getting cleaned right or something. I knocked a couple times before he came to the door. Gary was acting shifty."

"Shifty?" Rossi presses.

"Yeah. You know, like he didn't want me there. I mean, I didn't see nothing but, well, I get the idea that had I stepped in that house I woulda never stepped back out." He wags his finger at the agent. "Now don't you go quoting me on that! It was just a feeling; nothing to prove it."

Rossi nods. "You listened to that little voice in your head that said something was wrong. It was a smart move. Tell me, did you ever see them taking anything out of here? Anything at all?"

The man shakes his head. "No. I mean, trash to the road, but that's all."

"Is there anything else you'd like to volunteer about your neighbor?" Hotch asks.

The farmer thinks a moment then shakes his head. "Nah. Well, maybe one thing: he was a good man once, Agent Hotchner. Bronze Star and Purple Heart in 'Nam. But losing his wife that way...well, it changed him. It would change any man. Remember that when you arrest him."

Hotch nods. "I'll remember. You have my word."

As the two agents get outside, Rossi glance at Hotch. "You failed to mention Gary is already dead."

Hotch shrugs, his eyes emotionless. "He'll find out soon enough."

Rossi nods as they get into the SUV to drive back to the command van set up down the road.

* * *

Emily is pacing anxiously when Morgan returns from a quick reconnaissance of the property. She steps to him.

"Well?"

"No cover to the door. No way to sneak up in the light of day. Blinds on the windows so no way to see in. Hopefully no way to see out, either. Saw cellar doors on the back side. My guess is Reid and Curtis are in the basement."

Emily nods. "Right. Okay. So what's the plan?"

Morgan stares into his best friend's eyes. He sees the desperation clouding out the clinical. He takes her arm and leads her away from the gathering LEOs. He forces her to look him in the eyes.

"Emily, we will get him out of there," he says quietly. "But to do that we're going to need all of you here with us, not inside your head imagining what might be happening in there. So let me lay it out to you: Frances Curtis is in there being brutalized by 1 or more men. Reid is being taunted and mentally and/or physically tortured. We know those are facts." Emily shudders. "But if you want to get him out of there, you need to compartmentalize what we know about this case and what you remember about your time with Cyrus."

"I protected him from Cyrus, Derek. But I didn't protect him today," she points out. "I failed him."

Morgan thinks a moment, then sighs. "One of your first cases...your wife and Reid split up. You know what happened, right?" Emily nods, tears welling in her eyes. "That time they knew they had a suspect at hand. This time you didn't. Reid and JJ made it past that nightmare. We'll make it past this one, too. Back then JJ wanted me to tell her she did something wrong. I wouldn't do it to her. And I won't do it to you now. You did _nothing_ wrong, Emily. Shut the negative away and help us get Reid's ass out of there, okay?"

Emily nods. Morgan squeezes her arm and goes back to the command station to give her time to collect herself. Emily takes a few deep breaths. In her mind she replays the events in the store. Nothing they saw, nothing they heard gave them any indication they were dealing with members of Stewart's inner circle. Could they have missed something?

* * *

Morgan is using a satellite view of the farm on his tablet to show Hotch and Rossi what they are dealing with. He is using his stylus to draw in cars and other obstacles that could give them slight cover as they approached. He looks up as Emily walks up to them. He gives her a slight nod when he sees her eyes are sharp and determined.

She is ready to get their friend and Curtis back.

"A helicopter is on its way to give us some real time views from above. If they can zoom in on some license plates we can also figure out who the other players are," Morgan concludes.

"Good. Stay in touch with them," Hotch orders. "I'm going to go speak to the SWAT commander with Ambrose and Mares."

Morgan nods as Hotch walks off. Rossi slowly turns and looks at Emily.

"You okay, kid?"

Emily shrugs. "Better than Reid. I'm solid for this, Rossi. I swear."

He gives her a half grin. "I know, Emily. I know."

* * *

Garcia is not waiting for the police helicopter. She is trying her best to find a satellite image clear enough to get plate numbers off the cars in the yard. Additionally, she has a computer running down the phone lists of all known suspects, both dead and alive. Anything she can do to help get Reid out safely sooner is being done. The phone rings and, expecting Morgan, she stabs the answer button for her headphone.

"Talk to me, Morgan."

"Pen?"

Garcia stiffens in her seat. She looks at the caller i.d. as if it will change the person on the end of the line.

"Penelope? Are you there?"

"Jayje...uh...hi..."

JJ swallows. In her mind she can see Garcia's face: eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips slightly open. In other words: terrified. JJ had been hoping her wife was just out of signal range. Now she knows it's more than that.

"Pen, I can't reach Emily. What the hell is going on?"

"Umm...nothing?"

"GARCIA!" JJ demands.

Garcia winces at the anger and fear in her best friend's voice. "Damn my favorite beanbag chair," Garcia mutters. "First off: Emily is okay but her phone got smashed by someone. Reid's, too."

"Smashed? By who? Why?"

"Ooooohhhhh, Jayje...can't you just accept she's okay?"

"Garcia, talk or I will break speed records driving to the BAU," JJ threatens.

"No! No, don't do that." Garcia takes a deep breath. "Again, remember: Emily is okay. Pissed but okay."

As she manipulates the data and images on her computer, Garcia gives JJ a quick rundown of what had happened that day. By the end, JJ is thankful she is already in bed. She can feel her pulse pounding and is a little lightheaded. She rubs her temple.

"Will they...how are they...when..." JJ has too many questions fighting to get out. She has no idea where to start.

"Ooo! I got something that can help them! Can I call you back?"

"NO! Patch me through with the call." JJ takes a deep breath. "I need to speak with her, Pen."

Garcia bites her lip. "How about I call Hotch and you call Morgan. She'll be with him. You know that."

JJ slowly nods. "Right. Okay. I'll be calling you back, Garcia. Don't you dare ignore my call," she warns.

"I won't, Jayje. Promise."

Garcia disconnects and calls Hotch. "Hotch! I have 4 more names for you based on the cars I can see in the yard."

"Give them to me, Garcia." She rattles them off. "Good work. I'll be sending patrol units to their homes to either lock them down as crime scenes or interview anyone there. Be ready to receive anything more they may find out."

"Will do. Oh, and...Jayje called me."

Hotch pinches the bridge of his nose and looks back towards Emily. He sees her on Morgan's phone. "She okay?"

"Mad as hell at me, worried about her wife and terrified for Reid. But other that she's peaches and cream on a hot summer day," Garcia states sarcastically.

Hotch can't help but smile a little. "I'll take the heat from her, Garcia. I assume she'll be calling you back when she gets off with Emily."

"Yes, sir. She'll want to know what I know when I know it."

"I'll make sure you're kept up to date."

"Thank you, sir. Garcia out."

Hotch pockets his phone, his eyes never leaving Emily. She turns and sees him staring at her. She gives him a thumbs up, letting him know she's talking her irate wife down. He gives her a confident nod then goes to get officers sent out to the homes of the newest suspects.

* * *

Morgan is working on an entry plan with Emily when his phone rings. "Morgan."

"Give her your phone," JJ orders without preamble.

Morgan eases it from his ear and stares at it a moment before extending his hand to Emily. "It's for you. Might want to consider donning Kevlar before taking it."

"Son of a bitch," Emily mutters as she takes it. She takes a deep breath. "Hey, sweetheart. How you doing?" she says with forced cheerfulness.

"Don't even start that shit. I spoke with Pen. I know what's going on. Are you okay?"

Emily starts to pace. "I've...been better. But I can deal with the fear and shit later. For now I just have to concentrate on saving Reid and the Curtis woman. I'm sorry I didn't call you but...to be honest...I was imagining all the possible 'what ifs' about this whole damn thing. Morgan helped me work past it and get my head on right. I promise you, Jennifer, I am okay to be out here on this op to save Reid."

JJ smiles slightly. "I believe you, Em. I can hear it in your voice. Promise me you will call as soon as it's over. I don't care the time."

"Promise me you won't stay on the phone with Garcia into the wee hours of the morning," Emily counters. There is a pronounced silence. Emily smiles. "Mommy Prentiss?"

JJ sighs. "I have to know you all are okay, Em. I can't make that promise."

"I knew you'd say that," Emily concedes. "Maybe nap if you can? Garcia can wake you when we plan to go in, okay?"

JJ sighs. "Okay, I can do that. Or at least try to."

"Good girl." Emily feels eyes on her and turns to see Hotch staring at her. "Uh, I think Hotch talked to Garcia. He looks worried and he's staring at me. He probably thinks you're trying to board a plane to fly down here." She gives him a thumbs up.

JJ chuckles. "Can't say the thought didn't cross my mind. But I don't really want to make the news as the woman who goes into labor at 20,000 feet."

Emily laughs. "That would make their birth memorable but I prefer Maddie and Luc come to us via hospital."

"Me, too." JJ takes a deep breath as she rubs her stomach. "I guess I should let you go."

"Yeah. I promise to call as soon as I can," Emily vows.

"I'll be waiting. Please be safe."

"I will be."

"I love you, Em."

"I love you, too, Jen. Talk to you soon."

"Right. Bye, baby."

"Bye."

JJ disconnects the call and stares at the phone in her hand. She would do as she promised. She'd call Garcia and make the analyst promise to call her when the raid starts. Until then, she would do her best to nap...and not have nightmares about what one of her best friends is going through at the hands of an insane cult leader and her followers.


	12. Chapter 12

Reid knows it is exactly 3 hours and 17 minutes before Stewart reenters the chamber; two hours and 9 minutes after Pritchett had finally stopped screaming and begging for mercy. Reid studies the woman, now dressed in ceremnonial robes and headdress. She says nothing just starts to prepare her tools and chemicals for the mummification process.

"Good news, Dr. Reid," she says suddenly, making him jump. "You will get to view the Ancient Egyptian art of mummification in person. Usually only those who serve my husband, Anubis, get to see the process. I will say, this will be a rather abbreviated ritual due to your little friends out there." She slides the gag out of Reid's mouth.

Reid swallows. "Who...who are you..."

Before she can answer four men walk in bearing the body of Clay Pritchett. The man has been whipped so badly all over his naked body he is barely recognizable. Reid winces, imagining the incredible pain the man must have been in before succumbing to his wounds. The men drop the body on the ground and move to the stone slab. Reid shivers involuntarily.

"What...what are you doing?" he asks.

"They won't answer you, Dr. Reid. They only answer me." She looks at the men. "Mittag, tell him what we are doing," she orders a fifth man, who stands near the doorway.

The four men begin to untie Reid.

"We need the altar to prepare the decedent's body. It won't take long as he is unworthy of a full ritual."

Reid's eyes narrow. "You mean you have to do it quickly because the police are coming," he corrects.

The four men get Reid untied. The agent starts to struggle. Though his hands are still bound together, he manages to get a leg out of the hand of one man and kick the man holding his other leg. When that man lets go Reid throws his body to the side, trying to roll off the table and get his hands free from the two men holding his arms.

"THEY WILL RAPE HER!" Stewart says loudly. Reid freezes and looks at her. "Keep resisting and all of my priests will take a turn at Prentiss," she warns, the cold in her eyes telling him she means it.

"You're insane," he mutters as he stops struggling and allows the men to grab him and march him over to a ring embedded in the basement wall.

Once his hands are secured once more above his head, Stewart walks over and stares into his eyes. "They already had a turn with her," she whispers so only he hears.

His eyes widen. "NO!"

He struggles to free his hands as she walks away, giggling. She waves at the body on the ground and the men automatically lift it to the altar. They all ignore the cursing and struggling Dr. Reid. A man wheels over a table on which sits a set of canopic jars. Stewart lifts her first tool and smiles at Reid.

"I'd say take notes but I'm afraid that would require your hands. Hopefully you'll remember this," she taunts unaware that, no matter what he does, Reid can never forget what he is about to witness.

* * *

Morgan addresses the gathered police officers. "The only friendlies in that house will be Frances Curtis and Dr. Reid. Keep in mind, both may be dead now or, at the least, will be incapacitated. As far as we know Stewart, Pritchett and 3 other men are in there but there could be more. Don't let your guard down," he finishes.

Hotch steps up next. "Based on lights we can see, we believe everyone is in the basement. But as we think they are aware of us they could have people keeping watch in the dark. As Agent Morgan said, don't let your guard down. These people are devoted followers who will die before they disappoint the woman they view as a goddess. That sort of mindset is akin to a drug addict desperate for another fix. Nothing and no one will stand between them and their leader. They will fight with weapons, fists, anything they can get their hands on and their manic desire to protect her will make them formidable foes. Avoid direct contact. In other words, shoot to kill, not just stop." He slowly scans the gathered officers and stares each man and woman in the eyes, proud he sees no signs of hesitation, just a desire to bring home the captives. He turns to the SWAT commander.

The man steps forward. "You all have your assignments. If you hear anyone, cop or agent, saying get the hell out you get the hell out. No heroics, no grandstanding. We all go home tonight."

The team nods and breaks away to get into the two groups that will be entering the house and the group that would surround the house to prevent anyone from escaping. From the outside, the cellar doors would be braced to prevent anyone escaping that way. Morgan and Emily will be going in via the kitchen door with a team of 4. Hotch and Rossi would follow a moment later with their team. Morgan looks at his partner and best friend. The front door would remain unbreached for tactical reasons.

"You ready?"

"Damn right," she says, her eyes black with conviction.

He nods as they high five and go to get ready for entry.

* * *

"Were you sleeping?" Garcia asks nervously.

JJ sighs. "No. Trying to rest but sleep wasn't happening." She glances at the clock and sees it is 2:57. "Another 3 a.m. entry?"

"Yeah."

"Any word on Reid?"

"No. They haven't heard or seen anything for a while. Last thing the parabolic mic picked up was a guy saying something about how Pritchett shouldn't have crossed Anput which makes us think the screams we'd heard earlier were him being punished."

"I hate to say 'Thank, God' but I hope to hell they are right and it wasn't Spence," JJ says sadly.

"Us, too. Emily didn't think the screams sounded like Reid. I trust her."

JJ smiles. "Me, too." She rubs her stomach as the best friends sit in silence a moment. "Do you have a live feed?"

"Sort of. Tapped into the camera feed for SWAT. I get things on about a 4 second delay," Garcia explains.

JJ can't help but chuckle. "They don't know you hacked in, do they?"

"Of course not," Garcia answers proudly. "But I knew I needed to since I'd be on the phone with you. I'll keep you informed, Jayje. I promise."

"I know you will, Pen. I know you will."

"Oh! Okay, looks like the feed is moving in. I have two views and...shit...both are with Hotch and Rossi. Hold on a second." JJ listens as Garcia types quickly and cusses a few times. "Got it! Okay, two views now, one with each team going into the house."

"Good. And, yes, Emily's safety is primary to me but let me know about the others, too, okay?"

"You got it, Jayje."

JJ grabs Emily's pillow and cuddles it to her chest as Garcia starts to give her a play by play of the operation as it is unfolding.

* * *

Reid watches in horror as Clay Pritchett is given a half-assed mummification. The entire 40 day process happens right in front of him, down to organ removal and the treating of the body with wine and salt. Once Pritchett's body is crammed into a storage bin, Stewart gathers her canopic jars and walks out of the room. Reid can only stare at her in disgust, a look not missed by one of her priests. He walks over and punches the captive in the stomach.

"You'd do better to worship her as we do. Pritchett didn't and look what happened to him. You won't last half as long, string bean," he says then spits in Reid's face.

The genius waits until the man walks away before turning his head and manipulating his neck and arm to wipe the liquid from his face. He sighs.

 _"Where are you guys? Surely you know where I am...right? Please get here to save me and Curtis. One of us is next if you don't get here. So hurry. Please,"_ he prays silently.

His prediction is proven correct when two men practically drag Frances Curtis into the room and throw her weakened body up on the slab. His earlier tormentor grins at Reid.

"Time for Round 2," he says evilly as they priests begin to prepare for the next mummification.

"She's...she's not dead," Reid says nervously.

The man chuckles. "The bitches never are. Only the men die first because there is no use for them."

Reid swallows, mulling this piece of information. The team had assumed at least one more storage unit. No mummified men had been found in Garcia's like crime search which means at some point, either in the next few days or in the next year, a unit will be found with the male victims.

"So pointless," Reid whispers, as he stares at the slab that had been the death bed for so many.

* * *

Dr. Nicole Stewart, dressed as Anput, stands in the darkness staring out the front window. She sees the men stalking quickly and quietly across the yard.

"Too late, fools. Too late," she mutters.

"I don't think so."

Stewart spins around and finds herself staring down the barrel of Emily's gun. The agent stands about 10 feet away, her gun steady; her eyes unblinking. Stewart studies her a moment then chuckles.

"I told that dolt he should have grabbed you when he grabbed Dr. Reid. Can I assume he is in custody?" she asks smugly.

"No. He's at the coroner's office. His father, too," Emily responds. "Now, put your hands in the air, kneel down and cross your left ankle over your right," she orders.

Stewart cocks her head to the side. "I don't think so. I have leverage. You don't."

"You have nothing. The cellar door is barred to prevent escape. Those guys outside are a ruse. Men are already in the basement using building plans filed with the county to make their way into each room. Curtis and Reid will be freed soon; your men will be dead or arrested. Same option for you."

"Really? You truly think those downstairs are my only options?"

"Yes," Emily insists.

"I don't think so. Tell me, Emily...seen Snowman lately?"

Emily's eyes narrow. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Clay hated the washed up old asshole. Connections made sure Snowman could get collectibles that no one else could. He even blackballed Clay off of a couple sites that assist stores in tracking down rarities."

"So you're saying you have him? That he is somewhere under your control?"

"Yes. Do you really think this is my only temple?"

Emily keys her mic. "Garcia? You hear all that?"

"Copy, Prentiss. Already checking on Snowman and searching the background of Stewart and her goon squad for a secondary location," the analyst replies in Emily's earbud.

"Copy, Garcia," Emily responds. She grins at Stewart. "Oh well...so much for that leverage. Now, kneel before me, you false deity."

For a moment it looks as though Stewart will refuse. For a moment, Emily considers if she would really fire to stop the woman or let her get close and punch the shit out of her. Luckily (or unluckily?) for the agent she never has to make the choice. Stewart slowly kneels down and complies with Emily's order.

"You'll never find all the bodies without my help," Stewart claims.

"We found 2 units. If there are others we'll find those, too," Emily states confidently.

Two officers keep her covered as Emily holsters her gun, pulls out her cuffs and walks over to Stewart. She half-prays the woman tries something. But still maintaining the smirk on her face, Stewart allows herself to be cuffed and pulled to her feet. Emily passes her off to Mares, who starts to read the woman her rights. Emily keys her mic.

"Stewart in custody. Mares has her."

Her only response is the sound of gunfire coming from the basement. She keys her mic again. "Morgan? Hotch? Someone? COME IN!" The two SWAT officers start that way. Emily throws out her hand. "NO! We don't know the situation. We secure the basement door in case any suspects make their way up to try to escape. We...we have to let those downstairs just...take care of business."

Even as she says it, she knows the rock in her stomach will not go away until she knows what is going on. She sees the same frustration in the eyes of the cops but also the recognition that they could make the situation worse. They make their way back into the kitchen, listening to muffled yells and sporadic gunfire coming from below. When they hear footsteps coming up the stairs they all ready their firearms. Emily's eyes widen in disbelief when she sees who stumbles out the door covered in blood.


	13. Chapter 13

"HOLD FIRE!" Emily orders as she races forward to help Reid with Frances Curtis.

"She needs an ambulance!" Reid insists.

Emily looks at the bloodied genius. "So do you."

"Mostly hers. I swear."

"Get her out of here. What's going on down there?"

"Rossi freed me then all hell broke loose. He told me to get Curtis out and they'd cover me. I...I don't know any more than that," he says, breathing heavily.

Emily pats him on the shoulder. "There are officers in the front yard. Get her out and help them get her to an ambulance. We'll take care of things here. I promise," she adds as he starts to argue.

He glances at the badly abused woman and reluctantly nods. Emily helps him get her back up and one of the SWAT officers holds the door for Reid as he hurries out with the woman. Emily hears footsteps coming up once more and spins, her gun trained on the door. She lets out a sigh of relief as Morgan calmly enters the kitchen, hands first to show he is not a danger.

"Status?" She asks.

"Contained," he replies. "But we need EMT's. Now."

Emily studies him. "For who?"

"Two suspects and one of the SWAT members."

Emily nods, forcing herself not to look relieved in front of men who have a buddy injured. "Rest in custody?"

"Nope. Rest of the suspects are awaiting their ride across the Styx," he answers.

Emily grins, unable to help herself. "That's Greek, not Egyptian."

Morgan chuckles. "Whatever...geek."

"So, what the hell happened down there?"

Morgan sighs and leans against the kitchen counter. "They were ready for us."

* * *

 _Two SWAT officers make their way to the cellar door and secure it to prevent anyone using it to escape. With hand signals, they let Morgan's team know that area is covered. Morgan lifts his mic._

 _"Cellar locked down. Let's do this."_

 _Two entry teams quietly enter the house via the back door. Outside, the SWAT commander watches and when he sees movement behind the front curtains that he knows could not be one of his teams, he sends a few men towards the house as decoys. This keeps whoever is inside focused on the front of the house and, hopefully, believing that no one has made entry yet._

 _"Good call on that, Hotchner," the man whispers, glad he'd listened to the FBI agent when this tactic was suggested. "Thought you were a damn fool not to use the front door."_

 _Back in the kitchen, Morgan opens the door to the basement and begins to carefully pick his way down the steps. Six SWAT members follow him as Rossi and Hotch take up the rear. Emily turns her attention to this level of the house with 2 men. They clear the kitchen. Then the dining room before finding Stewart in the living room._

 _Downstairs, Morgan enters the first room they come to. He can't help but wince when he sees the puddle of blood on the floor and the spray patterns on the wall. Something violent and, considering the amount of blood, deadly had occurred in this room._

 _"Damn it, Pretty Boy, that better not be from you," Morgan mutters as he and the officers confirm the room is empty._

 _As they step back into the hallway, they see Rossi and two men step into the next room. Rossi hurries to Reid as an officer goes to free Curtis._

 _"How many, kid?" Rossi asks quietly._

 _"Stewart and 5 men," Reid answers._

 _Rossi radios the info to the others. "Take her and get the hell out of here, kid. Prentiss is upstairs."_

 _Reid stares at him guiltily. "Did they hurt her badly?"_

 _Rossi frowns at him. "What? Who?"_

 _"Stewart's men. She said they were going to...to hurt her," he answers._

 _"Kid, they never had her. Now get out of here," Rossi tells him._

 _Reid can only nod, partly stunned, partly relieved. He gets her to the steps to the kitchen as Hotch leads the final two men continue down the hallway..._

 _...into a shooting gallery._

 _Two men step out of the room at the very end of the basement, shotguns at the ready. They don't even aim, just fire blindly at the law enforcement officers. Hotch had managed to duck into the room with one man but the third takes two shots to the chest. Morgan and his duo had jumped back into the room they cleared. Morgan leans out enough to see Hotch lean out far enough to grab the wounded officer and start dragging him to safety._

 _Morgan and Rossi cover their boss and end the lives of Stewart's men before they can aim at their chief. Two men quickly replace them but they also take bullets, though only none are fatal. Rossi and Morgan carefully walk towards the room, knowing 1 more man, at least, remains. Morgan crouches down then spins into the doorway. As expected, the man in there had expected a taller target. He fires harmlessly over Morgan's head as the agent fires into the man's chest._

 _As the man falls, Morgan completely enters the room. He sees nothing but the various chemicals and other supplies needed for mummification are there, including a large stack of storage bins. He holsters his gun_

 _"CLEAR!"_

 _Hotch and Rossi step in. Though it is pointless, Rossi checks the pulse of the man on the ground. "Dead," he confirms what the lifeless eyes had hinted._

 _Morgan slowly studies the items around them then turns and walks back to the room where Reid and Curtis had been held. He stares at the altar and the still wet blood, smeared by Curtis' body. Without a word he goes upstairs to check on Emily and Reid. He'd heard Emily confirm the capture of the cult leader. He couldn't get out of this place fast enough._

* * *

"Damn," Emily says as Morgan finishes his run down of what had happened in the basement.

"Yeah. So this time the mummy is avenged instead of getting revenge."

Emily shrugs. "Maybe not. I mean, we followed the clues they gave us to find their abusers and eventual killers. I'd say that's pretty damn good revenge."

Morgan shivers at that thought. "I...gotta get out of here. Where's Reid?"

"He took Curtis out," she answers. She studies her best friend. Prior to the op he had been concerned about her frame of mind. Now the table was turned. "You okay?"

"How do all this men fall for this shit? I never understand this kind of crap."

"I'm sure we'll find all these men had something missing in their lives. Stewart is a cult leader. She figured out what they needed and gave it to them. In return, she got their devotion. Same old, same old," Emily points out.

"Yeah. I guess. Doesn't mean I have to understand it."

Emily pats his shoulder. "Go check on Reid. He can give you a better explanation than I can to help you get it."

Morgan manages a grin. "I think I'll just stick with ignorance is bliss rather than a lesson from the good doctor."

Emily smiles as she follows Morgan out the front door.

* * *

In the cellar temple, Rossi notices a storage bin with smears of blood on the lid. He walks over and carefully opens it. He can't help but wince when he finds the battered, partially mummified body of Clay Pritchett. He closes the lid again.

"Got what you deserved, bastard," he mutters.

"This is fucked," Hotch mumbles as he stares at the hieroglyphics painted on the walls. "They really tried to recreate a temple in here."

Rossi nods. "Yeah. Gonna be a hell of a book," he notes, then gives Hotch a wry grin as the unit chief chuckles.

The two head upstairs, leaving the scene to the EMT's, the cops, and the Crime Scene techs who are starting to filter in.

* * *

Midway across the yard, Morgan and Emily see people start to run and hear voices raised in alarm. They start to jog towards a cop car that seems to be the scene of the discord.

"HOW THE HELL DOES THAT HAPPEN?" a senior officer yells at a younger one.

"I DON'T KNOW! She was cuffed and I frisked her but I didn't see the pouch!"

"Son of a BITCH!" the senior yells, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"What's going on?" Morgan demands.

The man gestures to the car. "She's dead! Had a pouch with poison or something in it I guess!"

As an EMT goes to pull the body out, Emily sees something and knocks the man out of the way as she slams the door.

"NO!"

"PRENTISS! What the hell?" Morgan scolds.

"Cleopatra," is all Emily answers as she points.

Morgan follows her finger and sees the snake coiling around Stewart's neck. As they watch, the agitated reptile bites the woman once more. The EMT's eyes widen.

"Holy shit," Morgan whispers.

"I was...I was...I..." the EMT stutters.

Emily pats his shoulder. "Yeah. Sorry about pushing you."

"Forgiven," the man says as the snake strikes the corpse once more.

"How the hell do we get that thing and that body out of there?" the patrolman asks.

"Call a snake wrangler," Emily suggests. "They can handle an asp that poisonous and that worked up with proper tools. As to the body...you can get it after the snake is caught."

The cops nod as Emily follows Morgan to the ambulances to check on Reid and Curtis.


	14. Chapter 14

"And so Hotch ordered us here to rest the rest of the day. We can't really sign off on everything until the two injured so-called priests are stable enough to talk and, well, last I knew the cops were still waiting for the snake to be caught so the coroner can take Stewart's body. Best guess is we'll be back at the station tomorrow morning about 8 or so," Emily finishes.

"Damn, Em. An asp? Really?" JJ confirms.

"Yeah," Emily says around a yawn.

"Damn," JJ repeats once more. "Well, I'm glad Spence and all of you are okay. But you sound exhausted."

Emily wipes a hand down her face. "Yeah, I am. But I like talking to you so it's okay."

JJ grins. "Oh it is, is it?"

Emily smiles. "Yep. Always. Just hearing your voice makes this a nice Saturday night. So, enough of case yuckiness, how are you treating all my babies?"

JJ chuckles and rubs a hand over her stomach. "Well, the twins seem to be happy with me, despite the late night wake up to call Aunty Pen. Henry is now in 'baby-mode' double checking that everything is okay for his brother and sister. And Rocky just keeps reiterating that she wants a cat, not a brother or sister."

Emily laughs, her wife's words wiping away the lingering sadness from the case. "She is soooo not going to be happy when we bring home 2 little babies."

JJ shrugs. "Eh, she'll get over it. Maybe."

Emily yawns again. "We hope."

"Honey, you're about to fall asleep on me, so to speak," JJ notes. "How about you get some sleep so you call can get things wrapped up tomorrow and hopefully get home early tomorrow?"

Emily rolls to her back in the hotel bed. "I'd argue but I am not sure I can keep my eyes open much longer. And getting this case wrapped early so I can wrap you in my arms tomorrow night is very, very appealing. I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you, too. I'll see you Sunday evening, baby."

"Count on it beautiful," Emily agrees.

When they hang up, Emily plugs her phone in and sets her alarm clock for 6:15. She doesn't even remember turning off the bedside light before she falls asleep.

* * *

"Are you serious?" Hotch stares at the lawyer in disbelief. "Your client was stretchered out of the basement wearing ceremonial Egyptian robes and you're trying to tell me he was an innocent bystander? And dare I mention he was stretchered out because he raised a firearm at Federal and State officials?"

The lawyer shrugs. "He didn't know who you were. You entered silently. For all he knew you were thugs."

"Thugs wearing Police and FBI logoed gear?" Hotch asks sarcastically.

"Could be. And as to his robes, who are you to judge what he wears in private? My client has nothing to say to you or anyone else. He will plead 'Not Guilty' at his arraignment and unless you find something to prove he in anyway participated in these killings, he will go free."

"So, you're saying if we have video of his participation he may change his tune?" Rossi asks as he walks in the interrogation room, a smug look on his face.

Both lawyer and client pale, and the agents are sure the lack of blood on the killer's face isn't a result of the wound in his arm. The lawyer recovers first.

"Excuse me?"

"Turns out Dr. Stewart filmed all her mummifications, most likely so she could study them against ancient rituals and perfect the process," Rossi explains. "Your client is front and center of the first 4 we've viewed so far."

The lawyer seems to deflate in front of them as he sinks back in his seat. His client looks from the agents to his lawyer.

"What the hell does that mean?" he demands.

The lawyer blows out a breath. "It means you better start talking deal before the other defendants do. You're screwed if it's on film."

"But...but...but Anput will come back and help us! She will!" the man insists.

The lawyer looks over. His client had been told Stewart had committed suicide but he seems to truly believe the woman is a goddess and will return to save him. The lawyer rolls his eyes.

"Or maybe we look at a psychiatric defense," he mumbles as he curses the day he decided to become a public defender.

Rossi and Hotch exchange a look. Sure, a lot of criminals try to claim insanity in hopes of a lighter sentence. But based on what they had just witnessed...this guy might truly have a claim. The agents leave the room to give the lawyer time to discuss the new information with his client and set about trying to figure out a way to save the man's life.

* * *

At about 8 p.m. Sunday, Emily puts the last file in a box and closes it. They had hoped to be home by now but a third storage shed was found, this time with men's bodies. She and Morgan had helped with the initial profile of the scene for most of the day while Hotch, Rossi and Reid had concentrated on the men in custody. But finally they are set to leave the rest of the details to the locals and head home. It had been a hell of a week.

"Agent Prentiss?"

She turns and smiles at her visitor. "Snowman! Glad you're okay!"

He smiles and gives her a gentle hug. "Sorry I had you all worried. I needed to get away for a bit."

Emily nods. "Being targeted by a crazy cult can make you want to get out of town. I get that."

He chuckles. "Actually, it was to meet up with an old friend and work up the first draft of your new comic series."

Emily blushes. "Ah. Uh, okay."

"Should be done in a couple weeks. We'll send you a draft. I promise: if you don't like it, we won't pursue publication without changing the lead character a little."

"Don't you dare!" Morgan says as he walks into the room.

Emily blushes more. "Derek..." she says warningly.

He offers his hand to Snowman. "We're all looking forward to seeing our Emily immortalized in print. She's not just my partner she's my best friend. I want to have bragging rights that I know someone who inspired a comic."

Snowman chuckles as the rest of the team walks in. All voice their support for Emily being the latest comic anti-hero. Snowman watches the interaction between these people and pulls out a sketch pad. Emily notices and watches as he quickly sketches out an idea. Reid walks over and peers over his shoulder, smiling at the image. He pulls out his phone.

"You're missing two of us," he states. "Garcia is our technical analyst and JJ is another agent and Emily's wife," he explains showing Snowman a picture.

Snowman grins and adds quick images of the two woman onto the page. He finishes and closes the pad. "Perfect. After all, all heroes have their teams. Seems my adjudicator should, too."

The team smiles as Reid grins proudly. "Cool! I'll have to work on my autograph for Comic Con."

The group laughs as Snowman agrees with the young doctor. The man takes his leave, promising to get Emily a copy of Issue 1 as soon as it is mocked up and ready.

By 9 p.m. the team is at the airport for the 2 hour flight home.

* * *

It is just after midnight when Emily finally walks into her home. She sighs in relief as she resets the house alarm and climbs the stairs. She pauses first at Rocky's room and chuckles as she straightens up her daughter who is once again all wonky in the bed. Her next stop is Henry's room, where the youngster wakes up enough to give her a rundown of his day and all she had missed the rest of the week. This means it is nearly 1 before she walks into her bedroom to see her gorgeous wife laid out in the bed, her hand rubbing her stomach as she sleeps.

"So beautiful," Emily breathes out.

She shoves her go bag and briefcase in the office as she secures her firearms in the safe. She quickly gets ready for bed and slides in, snuggling close to her wife, letting the sound of JJ's breathing lull her to sleep.

* * *

"Emily? Emily, wake up," JJ insists.

Emily groans as she opens one eye and sees the clock reading 2:23. "Jen, I love you but I am exhausted. I know you are horny but can I please get a couple hours sleep? Please?"

Emily closes her eye, sure her wife will give her this bit of courtesy.

JJ pokes her again. "Emily...my water just broke."

* * *

 **A/N: Yep...I ended it there. I promise 73 is already in the works. Will try to get it posted before months elapse this time. :o)**


End file.
